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Published December 1905 





Universal Exposition, 1904. 



President of Columbia JJriinersity, Chairman. 


President of the University of Chicago. 

R. H. JESSE, PH.D., LL.D. 

President of the University of Missouri. 


President of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. 


Librarian of Congress. 


Director of the Field Columbian Museum. 



Retired Professor U. S. N. 


Professor of Psychology in Harvard University. 


Professor of Sociology in the University of Chicago. 
















The Evolution of the Scientific Investigator 135 



The Sciences of the Ideal 151 



Chairman's Address 171 


Philosophy: Its Fundamental Conceptions and its Methods . .173 


The Development of Philosophy in the Nineteenth Century . . . 194 


The Relations between Metaphysics and the Other Sciences . . .227 

The Present Problems of Metaphysics 246 


Short Papers 259 


The Relation of the Philosophy of Religion to the Other Sciences . . 263 



Main Problems of the Philosophy of Religion: Psychology and Theory of 

Knowledge in the Science of Religion 275 


Short Papers 289 


The Relations of Logic to Other Disciplines ...... 296 


The Field of Logic . . 313 



On the Theory of Science 333 


The Content and Validity of the Causal Law ...... 353 



The Relations of Ethics 391 


Problems of Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . 403 



The Relation of ^Esthetics to Psychology and Philosophy . . . .417 

The Fundamental Questions of Contemporary Esthetics .... 434 


Special Bibliography prepared by Professor Dessoir for his Address . . 447 

Short Papers 448 

General Bibliography for Department of Philosophy 449 


The Fundamental Conceptions and Methods of Mathematics . . . 456 


The History of Mathematics in the Nineteenth Century . . . . . 474 


On the Development of Mathematical Analysis and its Relations to Some 

Other Sciences 497 


On Present Problems of Algebra and Analysis 518 


Short Papers 531 



A Study of the Development of Geometric Methods . .535 


The Present Problems of Geometry . . - 559 


Short Papers 587 


The Relations of Applied Mathematics . .591 


The Principles of Mathematical Physics . . 604 


General Bibliography of the Department of Mathematics . . 623 

Special Bibliography accompanying Professor Boltzmann's Address . . 625 





THE forces which bring to a common point the thousandfold energies 
of a universal exposition can best promote an international congress 
of ideas. Under national patronage and under the spur of interna- 
tional competition the best products and the latest inventions of 
man in science, in literature, and in art are grouped together in orderly 
classification. Whether the motive underlying the exhibits be the 
promotion of commerce and trade, or whether it be individual 
ambition, or whether it be national pride and loyalty, the resultant 
is the same. The space within the boundaries of the exposition is 
a forum of the nations where equal rights are guaranteed to every 
representative from any quarter of the globe, and where the sover- 
eignty of each nation is recognized whenever its flag floats over a 
national pavilion or an exhibit area. The productive genius of every 
governed people contends in peaceful rivalry for world recognition, 
and the exposition becomes an international clearing-house for 
practical ideas. 

For the demonstration of the value of these products men thor- 
oughly skilled in their development and use are sent by the various 
exhibitors. The exposition by the logic of its creation thus gathers 
to itself the expert representatives of every art and industry. For 
at least two months in the exposition period there are present the 
members of the international jury of awards, selected specially by 
the different governments for their thorough knowledge, theoretical 
and practical, of the departments to which they are assigned, and 
selected further for their ability to impress upon others the correct- 
ness of their views. The renown of a universal exposition brings, as 
visitors, students and investigators bent upon the solution of prob- 
lems and anxious to know the latest contributions to the facts and 
the theories which underlie every phase of the world's development. 

The material therefore is ready at hand with which to construct 
the framework of a conference of parts, or a congress of the whole 
of any subject. It was a natural and logical step to accompany the 
study of the exhibits with a debate on their excellence, an analysis 
of their growth, and an argument for their future. Hence the con- 
gress. The exposition and the congress are correlative terms. The 
former concentres the visible products of the brain and hand of man; 
the congress is the literary embodiment of its activities. 


Yet it was not till the Paris Exposition of 1889 that the idea of 
a series of congresses, international in membership and universal in 
scope, was fully developed. The three preceding expositions, Paris, 
1878, Philadelphia, 1876, and Vienna, 1873, had held under their 
auspices many conferences and congresses, and indeed the germ of 
the congress idea may be said to have been the establishment of the 
International Scientific Commission in connection with the Paris 
Exposition of 1867; but all of these meetings were unrelated and 
sometimes almost accidental in their organization, although many 
were of great scientific interest and value. 

The success of the series of seventy congresses in Paris in 1889 
led the authorities of the World's Columbian Exposition in 1893 
to establish the World's Congress Auxiliary designed "to supple- 
ment the exhibit of material progress by the Exposition, by a por- 
trayal of the wonderful achievements of the new age in science, 
literature, education, government, jurisprudence, morals, charity, 
religion, and other departments of human activity, as the most 
effective means of increasing the fraternity, progress, prosperity, 
and peace of mankind." The widespread interest in this series of 
meetings is a matter easily within recollection, but they were in 
no wise interrelated to each other, nor more than ordinarily com- 
prehensive in their scope. 

It remained for the Paris Exposition of 1900 to bring to a perfect 
organization this type of congress development. By ministerial 
decree issued two years prior to the exposition the conduct of the 
department was set forth to the minutest detail. One hundred 
twenty-five congresses, each with its separate secretary and organiz- 
ing committee, were authorized and grouped under twelve sections 
corresponding closely to the exhibit classification. The principal 
delegate, M. Gariel, reported to a special commission, which was 
directly responsible to the government. The department was ad- 
mirably conducted and reached as high a degree of success as a highly 
diversified, ably administered, but unrelated system of international 
conferences could. And yet the attendance on a majority of these 
congresses was disappointing, and in many there was scarcely any 
one present outside the immediate circle of those concerned in its 
development. If this condition could prevail in Paris, the home of 
arts and letters, in the immediate centre of the great constituency 
of the University and of many scientific circles and learned societies, 
and within easy traveling distance of other European university 
and literary centres, it was fair to presume that the usefulness of this 
class of congress was decreasing. It certainly was safe to assume, 
on the part of the authorities of the St. Louis Exposition of 1904, 
that such a series could not be a success in that city, owing to its 
geographical position and the limited number of university and 


scientific circles within a reasonable traveling distance. Something 
more than a repetition of the stereotyped form of conference was 
admitted to be necessary in order to arouse interest among scholars 
and to bring credit to the Exposition. 

This was the serious problem which confronted the Exposition of 
St. Louis. No exposition was ever better fitted to serve as the ground- 
work of a congress of ideas than that of St. Louis. The ideal of the 
Exposition, which was created in time and fixed in place to com- 
memorate a great historic event, was its educational influence. Its 
appeal to the citizens of the United States for support, to the Federal 
Congress for appropriations, and to foreign governments for coopera- 
tion, was made purely on this basis. For the first time in the history 
of expositions the educational influence was made the dominant 
factor and the classification and installation of exhibits made con- 
tributory to that principle. The main purpose of the Exposition was 
to place within reach of the investigator the objective thought of 
the world, so classified as to show its relations to all similar phases 
of human endeavor, and so arranged as to be practically available 
for reference and study. As a part of the organic scheme a congress 
plan was contemplated which should be correlative with the exhibit 
features of the Exposition, and whose published proceedings should 
stand as a monument to the breadth and enterprise of the Exposition 
long after its buildings had disappeared and its commercial achieve- 
ments grown dim in the minds of men. 


The Department of Congresses, to which was to be intrusted this 
difficult task, was not formed until the latter part of 1902, although 
the question was for a year previous the subject of many discussions 
and conferences between the President of the Exposition, Mr. 
Francis; the Director of Exhibits, Mr. Skiff; the Chief of the Depart- 
ment of Education, Mr. Rogers; President Nicholas Murray Butler 
of Columbia University, and President William R. Harper of Chicago 
University. To the disinterested and valuable advice of the two last- 
named gentlemen during the entire history of the Congress the Ex- 
position is under heavy obligations. During this period proposals had 
been made to two men of international reputation to give all their 
time for two years to the organization of a plan of congresses which 
should accomplish the ultimate purpose of the Exposition authorities. 
Neither one, however, could arrange to be relieved of the pressure of 
his regular duties, and the entire scheme of supervision was conse- 
quently changed. The plan adopted was based upon the idea of an 
advisory board composed of men of high literary and scientific 
standing who should consider and recommend the kind of congress 
most worthy of promotion, and the details of its development. 


In November, 1902, Howard J. Rogers, LL.D., was appointed 
Director of Congresses, and the members of the Advisory (afterwards 
termed Administrative) Board selected as follows : - 

Columbia University. 

WILLIAM R. HARPER, PH.D., LL.D., President University of 


R. H. JESSE, PH.D., LL.D., President University of Missouri. 

HENRY S. PRITCHETT, PH.D., LL.D., President Massachusetts 
Institute of Technology. 

HERBERT PUTNAM, Lrrr.D., LLD., Librarian of Congress. 

FREDERICK J. V. SKIFF, A.M., Director of Field Columbian Mu- 

The action of the Executive Committee of the Exposition, ap- 
proved by the President, was as follows: 

There shall be appointed by the President of the Exposition Company a 
Director of Congresses who shall report to the President of the Exposition Com- 

There shall be appointed by the President of the Exposition Company an 
Advisory Board of seven persons, the chairman to be named by the President, 
who shall meet at the call of the Director of Congresses, or the Chairman of the 
Advisory Board. 

The expenses of the members of the Advisory Board while on business of the 
Exposition shall be a charge against the funds of the Exposition Company. 

The duties of the said Advisory Board shall be : to consider and make recom- 
mendations to the Director of Congresses on all matters submitted to them; to 
determine the number and the extent of the congresses; the emphasis to be 
placed upon special features; the prominent men to be invited to participate; 
the character of the programmes; and the methods for successfully carrying out 
the enterprise. 

There shall be set aside from the Exposition funds for the maintenance of the 
congresses the sum of two hundred thousand dollars ($200,000). 

The standing Committee on Congresses from the Exposition board 
of directors was shortly afterwards appointed and was composed of 
five of the most prominent men in St. Louis: 



CHARLES W. KNAPP, Editor of The St. Louis Republic. 

JOHN SCHROERS, Manager of the Westliche Post. 

A. F. SHAPLEIGH, Merchant. 

To this committee were referred for consideration by the President 
all matters of policy submitted by the Director of Congresses. This 
committee had jurisdiction over all congress matters, including not 
only the Congress of Arts and Science, but also the many miscel- 
laneous congresses and conventions, and a great part of the success 


of the congresses is due to their broad-minded and liberal deter- 
mination of the questions laid before them. 


It is impossible to ascribe the original idea of the Congress of 
Arts and Science to any one person. It was a matter of slow growth 
from the many conferences which had been held for a year by men 
of many occupations, and as finally worked out bore little resemblance 
to the original plans under discussion. The germ of the idea may fairly 
be said to have been contained in Director Skiff's insistence to the 
Executive Committee of the Exposition that the congress work 
stand for something more than an unrelated series of independent 
gatherings, and that some project be authorized which would at once 
be distinctive and of real scientific worth. To support this view 
Director Skiff brought the Executive Committee to the view of 
expending $200,000, if need be, to insure the project. Starting from 
this suggestion many plans were brought forward, but one which 
seems to belong of right to the late Honorable Frederick W. Holls. 
of New York City, contained perhaps the next recognizable step in 
advance. This thought was, briefly, that a series of lectures on 
scientific and literary topics by men prominent in their respective 
fields be delivered at the Exposition and that the Exposition pay 
the speakers for their services. This point was thoroughly discussed 
by Mr. Holls and President Butler, and the next step in the evolution 
of the Congress was the idea of bringing these lecturers together at 
the Exposition at about the same time or all during one month. At 
this stage Professor Hugo Munsterberg, who was the guest of Mr. 
Holls and an invited participant in the conference, made the import- 
ant suggestion that such a series of unrelated lectures, even though 
given by most eminent men, would have little or no scientific value, 
but that if some relation, or underlying thought, could be intro- 
duced into the addresses, then the best work could be done, which 
would be of real value to the scientific world. He further stated that 
only in this case would scientific leaders be likely to favor the plan 
of a St. Louis congress, as they would feel attracted not so much 
through the honorariums to be given for their services as through 
the valuable opportunity of developing such a contribution to scien- 
tific thought. Subsequently Professor Munsterberg was asked by 
Mr. Holls to formulate his ideas in a manner to be submitted to the 
Exposition authorities. This was done in a communication under 
date of October 20, 1902, which contained logically presented the 
foundation of the plan afterwards worked out in detail. At this 
juncture the Department of Congresses was organized, as has been 
stated, the Director named, and the Administrative Board appointed, 
and on December 27, 1902, the first meeting of the Director with 
the Administrative Board took place in New York City. 


A thorough canvass of the subject was made at this meeting and 
as a result the following recommendations were made to the Exposi- 
tion authorities : - 

(1) That the sessions of this Congress be held within a period 
of four weeks, beginning September 15, 1904. 

(2) That the various groups of learned men who may come together 
be asked to discuss their several sciences or professions with reference 
to some theme of universal human interest, in order that thereby 
a certain unity of interest and of action may be had. Under such a 
plan the groups of men who come together would thus form sections 
of a single Congress rather than separate congresses. 

(3) As a subject which has universal significance, and one likely 
to serve as a connecting thread for all of the discussions of the Con- 
gress, the theme "The Progress of Man since the Louisiana Pur- 
chase " was considered by the Administrative Board fit and suggest- 
ive. It is believed that discussions by leaders of thought in the 
various branches of pure and applied science, in philosophy, in politics, 
and in religion, from the standpoint of man's progress in the century 
which has elapsed, would be fruitful, not only in clearing the thoughts 
of men not trained in science and in government, but also in preparing 
the way for new advances. 

(4) The Administrative Board further recommends that the Con- 
gress be made up from men of thought and of action, whose work 
would probably fall under the following general heads : - 

a. The Natural Sciences (such as Astronomy, Biology, Mathe- 
matics, etc.). 

b. The Historical, Sociological, and Economic group of studies 
(History, Political Economy, etc.). 

c. Philosophy and Religion. 

d. Medicine and Surgery. 

e. Law, Politics, and Government (including development and 
history of the colonies, their government, revenue and prosperity, 
arbitration, etc.). 

/. Applied Science (including the various branches of engineer- 

(5) The Administrative Board recommends further referring to 
a special committee cf seven the problem of indicating in detail the 
method in which this plan can best be carried out. To this com- 
mittee is assigned the duty of choosing the general divisions of the 
Congress, the various branches of science and of study in these divi- 
sions, and of recommending to the Administrative Board a detailed 
plan of the sections in which, in their judgment, those who come to 
the Congress maybe most effectively grouped, with a view not only 
to bring out the central theme, but also to represent in a helpful way 
and in a suggestive manner the present boundary of knowledge in the 


various lines of study and investigation which the committee may 
think wise to accept. 

These recommendations were transmitted by the Director of 
Congresses to the Committee on Congresses, approved by them, and 
afterwards approved by the Executive Committee and the President. 
The first four recommendations were of a preliminary character, but 
the fifth contained a distinct advance in the formation of a Committee 
on Plan and Scope which should be composed of eminent scientists 
capable of developing the fundamental idea into a plan which should 
harmonize with the scientific work in every field. The committee 
selected were as follows : - 

DR. SIMON NEWCOMB, PH.D., LL.D., Retired Professor of Mathe- 
matics, U. S. Navy. 

PROF. HUGO MUNSTERBERG, PH.D., LL.D., Professor of Psycho- 
logy, Harvard University. 

PROF. JOHN BASSETT MOORE, LL.D., ex-assistant Secretary of 
State, and Professor of International Law and Diplomacy, Columbia 

PROF. ALBION W. SMALL, PH.D., Professor of Sociology, Uni- 
versity of Chicago. 

DR. WILLIAM H. WELCH, M.D., LL.D., Professor of Pathology, 
Johns Hopkins University. 

HON. ELIHU THOMSON, Consulting Engineer General Electric 

PROF. GEORGE F. MOORE, D.D., LL.D., Professor of Comparative 
Religion, Harvard University. 

In response to a letter from President Butler, Chairman of the 
Administrative Board, giving a complete resume of the growth of 
the idea of the Congress to that time, all of the members of the com- 
mittee, with the exception of Mr. Thomson, met at the Hotel Man- 
hattan on January 10, 1903, for a preliminary discussion. The entire 
field was canvassed, using the recommendations of the Administrative 
Board and the aforementioned letter of Professor Miinsterberg's to 
Mr. Holls as a basis, and an adjournment taken until January 17 
for the preparation of detailed recommendations. 

The Committee on Plan and Scope again met, all members being 
present, at the Hotel Manhattan on January 17, and arrived at 
definite conclusions, which were embodied in the report to the 
Administrative Board, a meeting of which had been called at the 
Hotel Manhattan for January 19, 1903. The report of the Com- 
mittee on Plan and Scope is of such historic importance in the devel- 
opment of the Congress that it is given as follows, although many 
points were afterwards materially modified:- 


NEW YORK, January 19, 1903. 
President Nicholas Murray Butler, 

Chairman Administrative Board of World's Congress at 
The Louisiana Purchase Exposition: 

Dear Sir, The undersigned, appointed by your Board a committee on the 
scope and plan of the proposed World's Congress, at the Louisiana Purchase 
Exposition, have the honor to submit the following report: - 

The authority under which the Committee acted is found in a communication 
addressed to its members by the Chairman of the Administrative Board. A 
subsequent communication to the Chairman of the Committee indicated that the 
widest scope was allowed to it in preparing its plan. Under this authority the 
Committee met on January 10, 1903, and again on January 17. The Committee 
was, from the beginning, unanimous in accepting the general plan of the Admin- 
istrative Board, that there should be but a single congress, which, however, might 
be divided and subdivided, in accord with the general plan, into divisions, depart- 
ments, and sections, as its deliberations proceed. 


As a basis of discussion two plans were drawn up by members of the Committee 
and submitted to it. The one, by Professor Munsterberg, started from a compre- 
hensive classification and review of human achievement in advancing knowledge, 
the other, by Professor Small, from an equally comprehensive review of the great 
public questions involved in human progress. 

Professor Munsterberg proposed a congress having the definite task of bringing 
out the unity of knowledge with a view of correlating the scattered theoretical and 
practical scientific work of our day. This plan proposed that the congress should 
continue through one week. The first day was to be devoted to the discussion of 
the most general problem of knowledge in one comprehensive discussion and four 
general divisions. On the second day the congress was to divide into several 
groups and on the remaining days into yet more specialized groups, as set forth 
in detail in the plan. 

The plan by Professor Small proposed a congress which would exhibit not 
merely the scholar's interpretation of progress in scholarship, but rather the 
scholar's interpretation of progress in civilization in general. The proposal was 
based on a division of human interests into six great groups: 

I. The Promotion of Health. 
II. The Production of Wealth. 

III. The Harmonizing of Human Relations. 

IV. Discovery and Spread of Knowledge. 
V. Progress in the Fine Arts. 

VI. Progress in Religion. 

The plan agreed with the other in beginning with a general discussion and then 
subdividing the congress into divisions and groups. 

As a third plan the Chairman of the Committee suggested the idea of a congress 
of publicists and representative men of all nations and of all civilized peoples, 
which should discuss relations of each to all the others and throw light on the 
question of promoting the unity and progress of the race. 

After due consideration of these plans the Committee reached the conclusion 
that the ends aimed at in the second and third plans could be attained by taking 
the first plan as a basis, and including in its subdivisions, so far as was deemed 
advisable, the subjects proposed in the second and third plans. They accordingly 
adopted a resolution that "Mr. Miinsterberg's plan be adopted as setting forth 


the general object of the Congress and defining the scope of its work, and that 
Mr. Small's plan be communicated to the General Committee as containing sug- 
gestions as to details, but without recommending its adoption as a whole." 


Your Committee is of opinion that, in view of the climatic conditions at St. Louis 
during the summer and early autumn, it is desirable that the meeting of this 
general Congress be held during the six days beginning on Monday, September 19, 
1904, and continuing until the Saturday following. Special associations choosing 
St. Louis as their meeting-place may then convene at such other dates as may be 
deemed fit ; but it is suggested that learned societies whose field is connected with 
that of the Congress should meet during the week beginning September 26. 

The sectional discussions of the Congress will then be continued by these 
societies, the whole forming a continuous discussion of human progress during 
the last century. 


The Committee believe that in order to carry out the proposed plan in the most 
effective way it is necessary that the addresses be prepared by the highest living 
authorities in each and every branch. In the last subdivisions, each section 
embraces two papers; one on the history of the subject during the last one hun- 
dred years and the other on the problems of to-day. 

The programme of papers suggested by the Committee as embraced in Pro- 
fessor Miinsterberg's plan may be summarized as follows : - 

On the first day four papers will be read on the general subject, and four on 
each of the four large divisions, twenty in all. On the second day those four divi- 
sions will be divided into twenty groups, or departments, each of which will have 
four papers referring to the divisions and relations of the sciences, eighty in all. 
On the last four days, two papers in each of the 120 sections, 240 in all, thus 
making a total of 340 papers. 

In view of the fact that the men who will make the addresses should not be 
expected to bear all the expense of their attendance at the Congress, it seems 
advisable that the authorities of the Fair should provide for the expenses neces- 
sarily incurred in the journey, as well as pay a small honorarium for the addresses. 
The Committee suggest, therefore, that each American invited be offered $100 for 
his traveling expenses and each European $400. In addition to this that each 
receive $150 as an honorarium. Assuming that one half of those invited to deliver 
addresses will be Americans and one half Europeans, this arrangement will involve 
the expenditure of $136,000. This estimate will be reduced if the same person 
prepares more than one address. It will also be reduced if more than half of the 
speakers are Americans, and increased in the opposite case. 

As the Committee is not advised of the amount which the management of the 
Exposition may appropriate for the purpose of the Congress, it cannot, at present, 
enter further into details of adjustment, but it records its opinion that the sum 
suggested is the least by which the ends sought to be attained by the Congress can 
be accomplished To this must be added the expenses of administration and 

All addresses paid for by the Congress should be regarded as its property, and 
be printed and published together, thus constituting a comprehensive work 
exhibiting the unity, progress, and present state of knowledge. 

This plan does not preclude the delivery of more than one address by a single 
scholar. The directors of the Exposition may sometimes find it advisable to ask 
the same scholar to deliver two addresses, possibly even three. 


The Committee recommends that full liberty be allowed to each section of the 
Congress in arranging the general character and programme of its discussions 
within the field proposed. 

As an example of how the plan will work in the case of any one section, the 
Committee take the case of a neurologist desiring to profit by those discussions 
which relate to his branch of medicine. This falls under C of the four main 
divisions as related to the physical sciences. His interest on the first day will 
therefore be centred in Division C, where he may hear the general discussion of 
the physical sciences and the relations to the other sciences. On the second day 
he will hear four papers in Group 18 on the subjects embraced in the general 
science of anthropology; one on its fundamental conceptions; one on its 
methods and two on the relation of anthropology to the sciences most closely con- 
nected with it. During the remaining four days he will meet with the represent- 
atives of medicine and its related subjects, who will divide into sections, and 
listen to four papers in each section. One paper will consider the progress of 
that section in the last one hundred years, one paper will be devoted to the 
problems of to-day, leaving room for such contributions and discussions as may 
seem appropriate during the remainder of the day. 


In presenting this general plan, your Committee wishes to point out the diffi- 
culty of deciding in advance what subjects should be included in every section. 
Therefore, the Committee deems it of the utmost importance to secure the advice 
and assistance of learned societies in this country in perfecting the details of the 
proposed plan, especially the selection of speakers and the programme of work in 
each section. It will facilitate the latter purpose if such societies be invited and 
encouraged to hold meetings at St. Louis during the week immediately preceding, 
or, preferably, the week following the General Congress. The selection of speakers 
should be made as soon as possible, and, in any case, before the end of the present 
academic year, in order that formal invitations may be issued and final arrange- 
ments made with the speakers a year in advance of the Congress. 


With the view of securing the cooperation of the governments and leading 
scholars of the principal countries of Western and Central Europe in the proposed 
Congress, it seems advisable to send two commissioners to these countries for this 
purpose. It seems unnecessary to extend the operations of this commission out- 
side the European continent or to other than the leading countries. In other 
cases arrangements can be made by correspondence. 

It is the opinion of the Committee that an American of world-wide reputation 
as a scholar should be selected to preside over the Congress. 
All which is respectfully submitted. 







The Administrative Board met on January 19 to receive the report 
of the Committee on Plan and Scope which was presented by Dr. 
Newcomb. Professor Miinsterberg and Professor John Bassett Moore 
were also present by invitation to discuss the details of the scheme. 
In the afternoon the Board went into executive session, and the 
following recommendations were adopted and transmitted by the 
Director of Congresses to the Committee on Congresses of the Expo- 
sition and to the President and Executive Committee, who duly 
approved them. 

To the Director of Congresses : 

The Administrative Board have the honor to make the following recommenda- 
tions in reference to the Department of Congresses : 

(1) That there be held in connection with the Universal Exposition of St. Louis 
in 1904, an International Congress of Arts and Science. 

(2) That the plan recommended by the Committee on Plan and Scope for a 
general congress of Arts and Science, to be held during the six days beginning on 
Monday, September 19, 1904, be approved and adopted, subject to such revision 
in point of detail as may be advisable, preserving its fundamental principles. 

(3) That Simon Newcomb, LL.D., of Washington, D. C., be named for President 
of the International Congress of Arts and Science, provided for in the foregoing 

(4) That Professor Miinsterberg, of Harvard University, and Professor Albion 
W. Small, of the University of Chicago, be invited to act as Vice-Presidents of 
the Congress. 

(5) That the Directors of the World's Fair be requested to change the name of 
this Board from the "Advisory Board" to the "Administrative Board of the 
International Congress of Arts and Science." 

(6) That the detailed arrangements for the Congress be intrusted to a com- 
mittee consisting of the President and two Vice-Presidents already named, sub- 
ject to the general oversight and control of the Administrative Board, and that 
the Directors of the Exposition be requested to make appropriate provision for 
their compensation and necessary expenses. 

(7) That it be recommended to the Directors of the World's Fair that appro- 
priate provision should be made in the office of the Department of Congresses for 
an executive secretary and such clerical assistance as may be needed. 

(8) That the following payment be recommended to those scholars who accept 
invitations to participate and do a specified piece of work, or submit a specified 
contribution in the International Congress of Arts and Science: For traveling 
expenses for a European scholar, $500. For traveling expenses for an American 
scholar, $150. 

(9) That provision be made for the publication of the proceedings of the Con- 
gress in suitable form to constitute a permanent memorial of the work of the 
World's Fair for the promotion of science and art, under competent editorial 

(10) That an appropriation of $200,000 be made to cover expenses of the 
Department of Congresses, of which sum $130,000 be specifically appropriated for 
an International Congress of Arts and Science, and the remainder to cover all 
expenses connected with the publication of the proceedings of said Interna- 
tional Congress of Arts and Science, and the expenses for promotion of all other 


In addition to the foregoing recommendations, Professor Miinster- 
berg was requested at his earliest convenience to furnish each member 
with a revised plan of his classification, which would reduce as far as 
possible the number of sections into which the Congress was finally 
to be divided. 

With the adjournment of the Board on January 19 the Congress 
may be fairly said to have been launched upon its definite course, 
and such changes as were thereafter made in the programme did not 
in any wise affect the principle upon which the Congress was based, 
but were due to the demands of time, of expediency, and in some 
cases to the accidents attending the participation. The organization 
of the Congress and the personnel of its officers from this time on 
remained unchanged, and the history of the meeting is one of steady 
and progressive development. The Committee on Plan and Scope 
were discharged of their duties, with a vote of thanks for the 
laborious and painstaking work which they had accomplished and 
the thoroughly scientific and novel plan for an international congress 
which they had recommended. 

It was determined by the Administrative Board to keep the serv- 
ices of three of the members of the Committee on Plan and Scope, 
who should act as a scientific organizing committee and who should 
also be the presiding officers of the Congress. The choice for President 
of the Congress fell without debate to the dean of American scientific 
circles, whose eminent services to the Government of the United 
States and whose recognized position in foreign and domestic sci- 
entific circles made him particularly fitted to preside over such an 
international gathering of the leading scientists of the world, Dr. 
Simon Newcomb, retired Professor of Mathematics, United States 
Navy. Professor Hugo Miinsterberg, of Harvard University, and Pro- 
fessor Albion W. Small, of the University of Chicago, were designated 
as the first and second Vice-Presidents respectively. 

The work of the succeeding spring, with both the Organizing Com- 
mittee and the Administrative Board, was devoted to the perfecting 
of the programme and the selection of foreign scientists to be invited 
to participate in the Congress. The theory of the development of 
the programme and its logical bases are fully and forcibly treated by 
Professor Miinsterberg in the succeeding chapter, and therefore will 
not be touched upon in this record of facts. As an illustration of the 
growth of the programme, however, it is interesting to compare its 
form, which was adopted at the next meeting of the Organizing 
Committee on February 23, 1903, in New York City, with its final 
form as given in the completed programme presented at St. Louis 
in September, 1904 (pp. 47-49). No better illustration can be given 
of the immense amount of labor and painstaking adjustment, both 
to scientific and to physical conditions, and of the admirable adapt- 



ability of the original plan to the exigencies of actual practice. At 
the meeting of February 23, 1903, which was attended by all of the 
members of the Organizing Committee and by President Butler of 
the Administrative Board, it was determined that the number of 
Departments should be sixteen, with the following designations: - 


1. Philosophical Sciences. 2. Mathematical Sciences. 

3. Political Sciences. 

4. Legal Sciences. 

5. Economic Sciences. 

6. Philological Sciences. 

7. Pedagogical Sciences. 

8. Esthetic Sciences. 

9. Theological Sciences. 


10. General Physical Sciences. 

11. Astronomical Sciences. 

12. Geological Sciences. 

13. Biological Sciences. 

14. Anthropological Sciences. 


15. Psychological Sciences. 16. Sociological Sciences. 


1. a Metaphysics. 
b Logic. 

c Ethics. 
d ^Esthetics. 

2. a Algebra. 

b Geometry. 

c Statistical Methods. 

3. a Classical Political History of 

b Classical Political History of 

c Medieval Political History of 

d Modern Political History of 

e Political History of America. 

4. a History of Roman Law. 

b History of Common Law. 
aa Constitutional Law. 
bb Criminal Law. 
cc Civil Law. 
dd History of International Law. 

5. a History of Economic Institu- 


b History of Economic Theories. 

c Economic Law. 
aa Finance. 

66 Commerce and Transportation. 
cc Labor. 

6. a Indo-Iranian Languages. 
6 Semitic Languages. 

c Classical Languages. 
d Modern Languages. 

7. a History of Education, 
aa Educational Institutions. 

8. a History of Architecture. 
6 History of Fine Arts. 

c History of Music. 

d Oriental Literature. 

e Classical Literature. 

/ Modern Literature. 
aa Architecture. 
66 Fine Arts. 
cc Music. 

9. a Primitive Religions. 
6 Asiatic Religions. 

c Semitic Religions. 

d Christianity. 
aa Religious Institutions. 
10. a Mechanics and Sound. 

6 Light and Heat. 

c Electricity. 

d Inorganic Chemistry. 

e Organic Chemistry. 

/ Physical Chemistry. 
aa Mechanical Technology. 
66 Optical Technology. 
cc Electrical Technology. 



SECTIONS continued 

10. dd Chemical Technology. 

11. a Theoretical Astronomy. 
b Astrophysics. 

12. a Geodesy. 
b Geology. 

c Mineralogy. 

d Physiography. 

e Meteorology. 
aa Surveying. 
bb Metallurgy. 

13. a Botany. 

b Plant Physiology. 

c Ecology. 

d Bacteriology. 

e Zoology. 

/ Embryology. 

g Comparative Anatomy. 

h Physiology. 
aa Agronomy. 
bb Veterinary Medicine. 

14. Anthropological Sciences: 
a Human Anatomy. 

b Human Physiology. 
c Neurology. 

d Physical Chemistry. 
e Pathology. 
/ Raceomatology. 
aa Hygiene. 
bb Contagious Diseases, 
cc Internal Medicine. 
dd Surgery. 
ee Gyn ecology. 
// Ophthalmology. 
gg Therapeutics. 
hh Dentistry. 

15. Psychological Sciences: 
a General Psychology. 

6 Experimental Psychology. 
c Comparative Psychology. 
d Child Psychology. 
e Abnormal Psychology. 

16. Sociological Sciences: 
a Social Morphology. 

b Social Psychology. 
c Laws of Civilization. 
d Laws of Language and Myths. 
e Ethnology. 
aa Social Technology. 

It was also resolved, that the discussion of subjects falling under 
the first four divisions should be held in the forenoon of each of the 
four days, from Wednesday until Saturday, and those relating to 
the three divisions of Practical Science in the afternoon of the same 
days. The programme was thus rearranged by the addition of the 

following: - 


17. Medical Sciences: 
a Hygiene. 

b Sanitation. 

c Contagious Diseases. 

d Internal Medicine. 

e Psychiatry. 

/ Surgery. 

g Gynecology. 

h Ophthalmology. 

i Otology. 

j Therapeutics. 

fc Dentistry. 

18. Practical Economic Sciences: 

a Extractive Productions of 

b Transportation, 
c Commerce. 
d Postal Service. 
e Money and Banking. 
19. Technological Sciences: 
a Mechanical Technology. 
b Electrical Technology, 
c Chemical Technology. 
d Optical Technology. 
e Surveying. 
/ Metallurgy. 
g Agronomy. 
h Veterinary Medicine. 



20. Practical Political Sciences: c Criminal Law. 
a Internal Practical Politics. d Civil Law. 

b National Practical Politics. 22. Practical Social Sciences: 
c Tariff. a Treatment of the Poor. 

d Taxation. b Treatment of the Defective. 

e Municipal Practical Politics. c Treatment of the Dependent. 

/ Colonial Practical Politics. d Treatment of Vice and Crime. 

21. Practical Legal Sciences: e Problems of Labor. 

a International Law. / Problems of the Family. 

6 Constitutional Law. 


23. Practical Educational Sciences : j Publications. 

a Kindergarten and Home. 24. Practical ^Esthetic Sciences: 
b Primary Education. a Architecture. 

c Universities and Research 6 Fine Arts. 

Secondary. c Music. 

d Moral Education. d Landscape Architecture. 

e ^Esthetic Education. 25. Practical Religious Sciences: 
/ Manual Training. a Religious Education. 

g University. b Training for Religious Service. 

h Libraries. * c Missions. 

i Museums. d Religious Influence. 

The programme was again thoroughly revised at the meeting of the 
Organizing Committee on April 9, 1903, at Hotel Manhattan, and as 
thus amended was submitted to the Administrative Board at a meet- 
ing held in New York on April 11. A careful consideration of the 
programme at this meeting, and a final revision made at the meeting 
of the Administrative Board at the St. Louis Club April 30, 1903, 
brought it practically into its final shape, with such minor changes 
as were found necessary in the latter days of the Congress due to the 
unexpected declinations of foreign speakers at the last moment. The 
continuous and exacting work done in perfecting the programme by 
each member of the Organizing Committee and by the Chairman of 
the Administrative Board deserves special mention, and was pro- 
ductive of the best results by its logical appeal to the scientific world. 
The programme as finally worked out in orderly detail, shortened in 
many departments by various exigencies, may be found on pages 47 
to 49 of this volume. 


The general plan of the Congress having been determined and the 
prcgramme practically perfected by May 1, 1903, two most import- 
ant questions demanded the attention of the Administrative Board : 
first, the participation in the Congress, both foreign and domestic; 


second, the support of the scientific public. At a meeting of the Board 
held in New York City April 11, 1903, these points were given full 
consideration. It was determined that the list of speakers both for- 
eign and domestic should be made up on the advice of men of letters 
and of scientific thought in this country, and accordingly there was 
sent to the officers of the various scientific societies in the United 
States, to heads of university departments and to every prominent 
exponent of science and art in this country, a printed announcement 
and tentative programme of the Congress, and a letter asking advice 
as to the scientists best fitted in view of the object of the Congress 
to prepare an address. From the hundreds of replies received in 
response to this appeal were made up the original lists of invited 
speakers, and only those were placed thereon who were the choice of 
a fair majority of the representatives of the particular science under 
selection. The Administrative Board reserved to itself the full right 
to reject any of these names or to change them so as to promote the 
best interests of the Congress, but in nearly every instance it would 
be safe to say that the person selected was highly satisfactory to the 
great majority of his fellow scientists in this country. Many changes 
were unavoidably made at the last moment to meet the situation 
caused by withdrawals and declinations, but the list of second choices 
was so complete, and in many cases there was such a delicate balance 
between the first and second choice, that there was no difficulty 
in keeping the standard of the programme to its original high 

It was early determined that the seven Division speakers and the 
forty-eight Department speakers, which occupied the first two days 
of the programme, should be Americans, and that these Division and 
Department addresses should be a contribution of American scholar- 
ship to the general scientific thought of the world. This decision 
commended itself to the scientific public both at home and abroad, 
and it was so carried out. It was further determined that the Division 
and Department speakers and the foreign speakers should be selected 
during the summer of 1903, and that the American participation in 
the Section addresses should be determined after it was definitely 
known what the foreign participation would be. In view of the 
importance of the Congress, it was deemed inadvisable to attempt 
to interest foreign scientific circles by correspondence, and it was 
further decided to pay a special compliment to each invited speaker 
by sending an invitation at the hands of special delegates. Arrange- 
ments were therefore made for Dr. Newcomb and Professors Miinster- 
berg and Small to proceed to Europe during the summer of 1903, and 
to present in person to the scientific circles of Europe and to the 
scientists specially desired to deliver addresses the complete plan 
and scope of the Congress and an invitation to participate. 



The members of the Organizing Committee, armed with very strong 
credentials from the State Department to the diplomatic service 
abroad, sailed in the early summer of 1903 to present the invitation of 
the Exposition to the selected scientists. Dr. Newcomb sailed May 6, 
Professor Miinsterberg May 30, and Professor Small June 6. A general 
interest in the project had at this time become aroused, and there 
was assured a respectful hearing. Both the President of the United 
States and the Emperor of Germany expressed their warm interest 
in the plan, and the State Department at Washington gave to the 
Congress both on this occasion and on succeeding occasions its effect- 
ive aid. The Director of Congresses wishes to express his obligations 
both to the late Secretary Hay and to Assistant-Secretary Loomis for 
their valuable suggestions and courteous cooperation in all matters 
relating to the foreign participation. Strong support was also given 
the Committee and the plan of the Congress by Commissioner-General 
Lewald of Germany, and Commissioner-General Lagrave of France. 
Throughout the entire Congress period, both of these energetic Com- 
missioners-General placed themselves actively at the disposition of 
the Department in promoting the attendance of scientists from their 
respective countries. 

Geographically the division between the three members of the 
Organizing Committee gave to Dr. Newcomb, France; to Professor 
Miinsterberg, Germany, Austria, and Switzerland; and to Professor 
Small, England, Russia, Italy, and a part of Austria. It was also 
agreed that Dr. Newcomb should have special oversight of the 
departments of Mathematics, Physics, Astronomy, Biology, and 
Technology; Professor Miinsterberg, special charge of Philosophy, 
Philology, Art, Education, Psychology, and Medicine; and that 
Professor Small should look after Politics, Law, Economics, Theology, 
Sociology, and Religion. The Committee worked independently of 
each other, but met once during the summer at Munich to compare 
results and to determine their closing movements. 

The public and even the Exposition authorities have probably 
never realized the delicacy and the extremely careful adjustment 
exercised by the Organizing Committee in their summer's campaign. 
Scientists are as a class sensitive, jealous of their reputations, and 
loath to undertake long journeys to a distant country for congress 
purposes. The amount of labor devolving upon the Committee to 
find the scientists scattered over all Europe; the careful and pains- 
taking presentation to each of the plan of the Congress; the appeal 
to their scientific pride; the hearing of a thousand objections, and 
the answering of each; the disappointments incurred; the substi- 
tutions made necessary at the last moment; -- all sum up a task of 


the greatest difficulty and of enormous labor. The remarkable success 
with which the mission was crowned stands out the more promi- 
nently in view of these conditions. When the Committee returned in 
the latter part of September, they had visited every important coun- 
try of Europe, delivered more than one hundred fifty personal invita- 
tions, and for the one hundred twenty-eight sections had secured one 
hundred seventeen acceptances. 

At a meeting of the Administrative Board, \vhich met with the 
Organizing Committee on October 13, 1903, a full report of the 
European trip was received and ways and means considered for insur- 
ing the attendance from abroad. A list of the foreign acceptances was 
ordered printed at once for general distribution, and the Chairman of 
the Administrative Board was requested to address a letter to each 
of the foreign scientists confirming the action of the special delegates 
and giving additional information as to the length of addresses, and 
rules and details governing the administration of the Congress. 


The number of the Administrative Board was decreased during 
the summer by the sudden death of the Hon. Frederick W. Holls, on 
July 23, 1903. Mr. Holls had been intensely interested in the develop- 
ment of the Congress from its earliest days, and was very instru- 
mental in determining the form in which it was finally promoted. 
His great influence abroad as a member of the Hague Conference, 
and his high standing in legal and literary circles in this country, 
rendered him one of the most prominent members of the Board. A 
resolution of regret at his untimely death was spread upon the min- 
utes of the Administrative Board at the meeting in October, and it 
was decided that his place upon the Board should remain unfilled. 


At this same meeting of October 13, active measures were taken to 
forward the American participation in the Congress. The necessity 
was now very evident that our strongest men of science must be 
induced to take part, in order to compare favorably with the leading- 
minds which Europe was sending. The Organizing Committee were 
instructed to consult the American scientific societies and associations 
regarding the selection of American speakers, and also in reference 
to presiding officials for each section. Six weeks was considered suf- 
ficient for this task, and the Committee were asked to submit to the 
Administrative Board at a meeting in New York, on December 3 
and 4, their recommendations for American speakers. 

An immense amount of detailed labor, in the way of correspond- 
ence, now devolved upon the Organizing Committee as well as upon 
the Director of Congresses, and a branch office was established in 


Washington equipped with clerks and stenographers under the charge 
of Dr. Newcomb, who devoted the greater portion of his time for the 
next six months to the many details connected with the selection 
of foreign and American speakers and chairmen. The meeting of the 
Administrative Board in New York in December, and a similar 
meeting with the Organizing Committee held at the St. Louis Club on 
December 28, were given over entirely to perfecting the personnel of 
the programme. Great care was exerted in selecting the chairmen 
of the departments and sections, inasmuch as they must be men of 
international reputation and conceded strength. For the secretary- 
ships younger men of promise and ability w r ere selected, chiefly from 
university circles. Both the chairmen and secretaries served without 

The work of the late winter was a continuance of the perfecting of 
details, and at a meeting of the Administrative Board held in New 
York in February, 1904, a final approval was given to the programme 
and the speakers. The imminent approach of the Exposition and the 
work of the college commencement season made it impossible for 
further general meetings, and on June 1 the Organizing Committee 
was constituted a committee with power to fill vacancies in the pro- 
gramme or to amend the programme as circumstances might demand. 
All suggestions with reference to details were to be made directly to 
the Director of Congresses, upon whom devolved from this time for- 
ward the entire executive control of the Congress. 


The highly diversified nature of the Congress and the holding of 
one hundred twenty-eight section meetings in four days' time ren- 
dered necessary a large number of meeting-places centrally located. 
The Exposition was fortunate in having the use of the new plant of 
the Washington University, nine large buildings of which had been 
erected. Many of these buildings contained lecture halls and assembly 
rooms, seating from one hundred fifty to fifteen hundred people. 
Sixteen halls were necessary to accommodate the full number of 
sections running at any one time, and of this number twelve were 
available in the group of University Buildings; the other four were 
found in the lecture halls of the Education Building, Mines and 
Metallurgy Building, Agriculture Building, and the Transportation 
Building. The opening exercises, at which the entire Congress was 
assembled, was held in Festival Hall, capable of seating three 
thousand people. In the assignment of halls care was taken so far as 
possible to assign the larger halls to the more popular subjects, but it 
often happened that a great speaker was of necessity assigned to 
a smaller hall. Two of the halls also proved bad for speaking owing 
to the traffic of the Intramural Railway, and there was lacking in 


nearly all of the halls that academic peace and quiet which usually 
surrounds gatherings of a scientific nature. This, however, was to be 
expected in an exposition atmosphere, and was readily acquiesced 
in by the speakers themselves, and very little objection was heard to 
the halls as assigned. Every one seemed to recognize the fact that the 
immediate value of the meeting lay in the commingling and fellowship, 
and that the addresses, of which one could hear at most only one in six- 
teen, could not be judged in the proper light until their publication. 


A strong effort was made by the Organizing Committee to secure 
the attendance of an audience which should not only in its proportions 
be complimentary to the eminence of the speakers, but also be thor- 
oughly appreciative of the addresses and conversant with the topic 
under discussion. Letters were therefore sent to all of the prominent 
scientific societies in the United States, asking that wherever possible 
the meetings of the society be set for the Congress week in St. Louis, 
and wherever this was not possible that the societies send special 
delegates to attend the Congress, and urge their membership to make 
an effort to be present. Personal letters were also sent to the leading 
members of the different professions and sciences, to the faculties of 
universities and colleges, urging them to attend, and pointing out the 
necessity of the support of the American scientific public. 

Special invitations were also sent in the name of the Organizing 
Committee to the leading authorities of the various subjects under 
discussion in the Congress, asking them to contribute a ten-minute 
paper to any section in which they were particularly interested. The 
result of this careful campaign, in addition to the general exploita- 
tion which the Congress received, was such a flattering attendance of 
American scientists, as to be both a compliment to the European 
speakers and a benefit to scientific thought. Many societies, such as 
the American Neurological Association, American Philological Asso- 
ciation, American Mathematical Society, Physical and Chemical 
Societies of America, American Astronomical Society, Germanic Con- 
gress, American Electro-Therapeutic Association, held their annual 
meetings during the week of the Congress, although the date rendered 
it impossible for the majority of the associations to meet at that time. 
The eighth International Geographic Congress adjourned from Wash- 
ington to St. Louis to meet with the Congress of Arts and Science. In 
response to the special invitations, two hundred forty-seven ten- 
minute addresses were promised and one hundred two actually read. 


Every effort was made by the Department of Congresses to assist 
the foreign speakers in their traveling arrangements and to make 



matters as easy and comfortable as possible. A letter of advice was 
mailed to each speaker prior to his departure, carefully setting forth 
the conditions of American travel, routes to be followed, reception 
committees to be met, and other essential details. The official badge 
of the Congress was also mailed, so that those wearing them might 
be easily identified by the reception committees both in New York 
and St. Louis. Nine tenths of the speakers came by the way of New 
York, and in order to facilitate the clearance of their baggage and to 
provide for their fitting entertainment in New York, a special recep- 
tion committee was formed composed of the following members : - 

F. P. Keppel, Columbia University, New York City, Chairman. 

Prof. Herbert V. Abbott, New York. 
R. Arrowsmith, New York. 
C. William Beebe, New York. 
George Bendelari, New York. 
Edward W. Berry, Passaic. 
J. Fuller Berry, Old Forge, 
Rev. H. C. Birckhead, New York. 
Dr. James H. Canfield, New York. 
Rev. G. A. Carstenson, New York. 
Prof. H. S. Crampton, New York. 
Sanford L. Cutler, New York. 
Dr. Israel Davidson, New York. 
William H. Davis, New York. 
Prof. James C. Egbert, New York. 
Dr. Haven Emerson, New York. 
Prof. T. S. Fiske, New York. 
J. D. Fitz-Gerald, II, Newark. 
W. D. Forbes, Hoboken. 
Clyde Furst, Yonkers. 
William K. Gregory, New York. 
George C. O. Haas, New York. 
Prof. W. A. Hervey, New York. 
Carl Herzog, New York. 

Robert Hoguet, New York. 

Dr. Percy Hughes, Brooklyn. 

Prof. A. V. W. Jackson, New York. 

Albert J. W. Kern, New York. 

Prof. Charles F. Kroh, Orange. 

Dr. George F. Kunz, New York. 

Prof. L. A. Lousseaux, New York. 

Frederic L. Luqueer, Brooklyn. 

R. A. V. Minckwitz, New York. 

Charles A. Nelson, New York. 

Dr. Harry B. Penhollow, New York. 

Prof. E. D. Perry, New York. 

John Pohlman, New York. 

Dr. Ernest Richard, New York. 

Dr. K. E. Richter, New York. 

Edward Russ, Hoboken. 

Prof. C. L. Speranza, Oak Ridge. 

Prof. Francis H. Stoddard, New York. 

Dr. Anthony Spitzka, Goodground. 

Harvey W. Thayer, Brooklyn. 

Prof. H. A. Todd, New York. 

Dr. E. M. Wahl, New York. 

Prof. F. H. Wilkens, New York. 

To each foreign speaker was extended the courtesies of the Century 
and the University clubs while remaining in New York City. Mention 
should also be made of the assistance of the Treasury Department 
and of the courtesy of Collector of the Port, Hon. N. N. Stranahan, 
through whom special privileges of the Port were extended to 
the members of the Congress. The work of the reception committee 
was most satisfactorily and efficiently performed, and was highly 
appreciated by the foreign guests. Special acknowledgment is due 
Mr. F. P. Keppel, of Columbia University, for his painstaking and 
efficient management of the affairs of the committee in New York. 
Many of the speakers proceeded singly to St. Louis, stopping at vari- 
ous places, but the great majority went directly to the University of 
Chicago, where they were entertained during the week preceding the 
Congress by President Harper and Professor Small , of the University 


of Chicago. The arrivals at St. Louis were made on Saturday the 17th 
and Sunday the 18th of September. Many of the participants had 
arrived at earlier dates, and fully twenty of the speakers were mem- 
bers of the International Jury of Awards for their respective countries, 
and had been in St. Louis since September 1, the beginning of the 
Jury work. 

A reception committee similar to that in New York was also 
formed at St. Louis from the members of the University Club, and 
their duties were to meet all incoming trains and conduct the members 
of the Congress personally to their stopping-places, and assist them 
in all matters of detail. This committee was comprised of the follow- 
ing members, nearly all of the University Club, who performed 
their work efficiently and enthusiastically to the great satisfaction 
of the Exposition and to the thorough appreciation of the foreign 
guests : - 

V. M. Porter, Chairman, St. Louis. Carl H. Lagenburg, St. Louis. 

E. H. Angert, St. Louis. Sears Lehmann, St. Louis. 

Gouverneur Calhoun, St. Louis. G. F. Paddock, St. Louis, 

W. M. Chauvenet, St. Louis. T. G. Rutledge, St. Louis. 

H. G. Cleveland, St. Louis. Luther Ely Smith, St. Louis. 

Mr. M. B. Clopton, St. Louis. J. Clarence Taussig, St. Louis. 

Walter Fischel, St. Louis. C. E. L. Thomas, St. Louis. 

W. L. R. Gifford, St. Louis. W. M. Tompkins, St. Louis. 

E. M. Grossman, St. Louis. G. T. Weitzel, St. Louis. 

L. W. Hagerman, St. Louis. Tyrrell Williams, St. Louis. 

Louis La Beaume, St. Louis. 

The itinerary of the foreign speakers after leaving St. Louis at the 
end of the Congress took them on appointed trains to Washington, 
where they were given an official reception by President Roosevelt 
and a reception by Dr. Simon Newcomb, President of the Congress. 
From here they proceeded to Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass., 
where they were given a reception by Prof. Hugo Miinsterberg, 
and were entertained as guests of Harvard University. Thence the 
great majority of the speakers returned to New York, where they 
were the guests of Columbia University, and were given a farewell 
dinner by the Association of Old German Students. Many of the 
speakers, however, visited other portions of the country before 
returning to Europe. 

The foreign speakers while in St. Louis were considered the guests 
of the Exposition Company, and were relieved from all care and 
expense for rooms and entertainment. Those who were accompanied 
by their wives and daughters were entertained by prominent St. Louis 
families, and those who came singly were quartered in the dormitory 
of the Washington University, which was set aside for this purpose 
during the week of the Congress. The dormitory arrangement proved 
a very happy circumstance, as nearly one hundred foreign and Amer- 


lean scientists of the highest rank were thrown in contact, much after 
the fashion of their student days, and thoroughly enjoyed the novelty 
and fellowship of the plan. The dormitory contained ninety-six 
rooms newly fitted up with much care and with all modern con- 
veniences. Light breakfasts were served in the rooms, and special 
service provided at the call of the occupants. The situation of the 
dormitory also in the Exposition grounds in close proximity to the 
assembly halls was highly appreciated, and although at times there 
were minor matters which did not run so smoothly, the almost 
unanimous expression of the guests of the Exposition was one of 
delight and appreciation of the arrangements. Special mention ought 
in justice to be made to those residents of St. Louis who sustained 
the time-honored name of the city for hospitality and courtesy by 
entertaining those foreign members of the Congress who were accom- 
panied by the immediate members of their family. They were as 
follows : - 

Dr. C. Barck Mr. Edward Mallinckrodt 

Dr. William Bartlett Mr. George D. Markham 

Judge W. F. Boyle Mr. Thomas McKittrick 

Mr. Robert Brookings Mr. Theodore Meier 

Mrs. J. T. Davis Dr. S. J. Niccolls 

Dr. Samuel Dodd Dr. W. F. Nolker 

Mr. L. D. Dozier Dr. S. J. Schwab 

Dr. W. E. Fischel Dr. Henry Schwartz 

Mr. Louis Fusz Mr. Corwin H. Spencer 

Mr. August Gehner Dr. William Taussig 

Dr. M. A. Goldstein Mr. G. H. Tenbroek 

Mr. Charles H. Huttig Dr. Herman Tuholske 

Dr. Ernest Jonas Hon. Rolla Wells 

Mr. R. McKittrick Jones Mr. Edwards Whitaker 

Mr. F. W. Lehmann Mr. Charles Wuelfing 

Dr. Robert Luedeking Mr. Max Wuelfing. 


The immense amount of detail work which devolved upon the 
Department in the matter of preparing halls for the meetings, receiv- 
ing guests, providing for their comfort, issuing the programmes, 
managing the detail of the receptions, banquets, invitations, etc., 
providing for registration, payment of honorariums, and furnishing 
information on every conceivable topic, rendered necessary the for- 
mation of a special bureau which was placed in charge of Dr. L. O. 
Howard of Washington, D. C., as Executive Secretary. Dr. Howard's 
long experience as Secretary of the American Association for the 
Advancement of Science rendered him particularly well qualified to 
assume this laborious and thankless task. By mutual arrangement 
the Director of Congresses and the Executive Secretary divided 
the field of labor, The Director had, in addition to the general over- 


sight of the Congress, special supervision of the local reception com- 
mittee, the entertainment of the guests, official banquets and enter- 
tainments, and all financial details. The Executive Secretary took 
entire charge of the programme, assignment of rooms in the dormi- 
tory, care and supervision of the dormitory, assignment of halls for 
speakers, registration books and bureau of information. Dr. Howard 
arrived on September 1 to begin his duties, and remained until 
September 30. 


The opening session of the Congress was set for Monday afternoon, 
September 19, at 2.30 o'clock in Festival Hall. The main programme 
of the Congress began Tuesday morning. The sessions were held in 
the mornings and afternoons, the evenings being left free for social 
affairs. The list of functions authorized in honor of the Congress of 
Arts and Science were as follows : - 

Monday evening, September 19, grand fete night in honor of the 
guests of the Congress, with special musical programme about the 
Grand Basin and lagoons, boat rides and lagoon fete; this function 
was unfortunately somewhat marred by inclement weather. It was 
the only evening free in the entire week, however, for members of 
the Congress to witness the illuminations and decorative evening 

Banquet given by the St. Louis Chemical Society at the Southern 
Hotel to members of the chemical sections of the Congress. 

Tuesday evening, September 20, general reception by the Board 
of Lady Managers to the officers and speakers of the Congress and 
officials of the Exposition. 

Wednesday afternoon, September 21, garden fete given to the 
members of the Congress at the French National Pavilion by the 
Commissioner-General from France. The gardens of the miniature 
Grand Trianon were never more beautiful than on this brilliant after- 
noon, and the presence of the Garde Republicaine band and the entire 
official representation of the Exposition, lent a color and spirit to the 
affair unsurpassed during the Exposition period. 

Wednesday evening, reception by the Imperial German Commis- 
sioner-General to the officers and speakers of the Congress and the 
officials of the Exposition, at the German State House. The magni- 
ficent hospitality which characterized this building during the entire 
Exposition period was fairly outdone on this occasion, and the func- 
tion stands prominent as one of the brilliant successes of the Exposi- 
tion period. 

Thursday evening, September 22, Shaw banquet at the Bucking- 
ham Club to the foreign delegates and officers of the Congress. 
Through the courtesy of the trustees of Shaw's Garden and of the 


officers of Washington University, the animal banquet provided for 
men of science, letters, and affairs, by the will of Henry B. Shaw, 
founder of the Missouri Botanical Gardens, was given during this 
week as a compliment to the noted foreign scientists who were the 
guests of the city of St. Louis. 

Friday evening, September 23, official banquet given by the 
Exposition to the speakers and officials of the Congress and the 
officials of the Exposition, in the banquet hall of the Tyrolean Alps. 

Saturday evening, September 24, banquet at the St. Louis Club 
given by the Round Table of St. Louis, to the foreign members of the 
Congress. The Round Table is a literary club which meets at banquet 
six times annually for discussion of topics of interest to the literary 
and scientific world. 

Banquet given by the Imperial Commissioner-General from Japan 
to the Japanese delegation to the Congress and to the Exposition 
officials and Chiefs of Departments. 

Dinner given by Commissioner-General from Great Britain to the 
English members of the Congress. 


The assembling of the Congress on the afternoon of September 19, 
in the magnificent auditorium of Festival Hall which crowned Cascade 
Hill and the Terrace of States, was marked with simple ceremonies 
and impressive dignity. The great organ pealed the national hymns 
of the countries participating and closed with the national anthem 
of the United States. In the audience were the members of the Con- 
gress representing the selected talent of the world in their field of 
scientific endeavor, and about them were grouped an audience drawn 
from every part of the United States to promote by their presence the 
success of the Congress and to do honor to the noted personages who 
were the guests of the Exposition and of the Nation. On the stage 
were seated the officials of the Congress, the honorary vice-presidents 
from foreign nations, and the officials of the Exposition. 

At the appointed hour the Director of Congresses, Dr. Howard J. 
Rogers, called the meeting to order, and outlined in a few words the 
object of the Congress, welcomed the foreign delegates, and presented 
the members, both foreign and American, to the President of the 
Exposition, Hon. David R. Francis. 

The President spoke as follows: - 

What an ambitious undertaking is a universal exposition! But how worthy 
it is of the highest effort! And, if successful, how far-reaching are its results, 
how lasting its benefits! Who shall pass judgment on that success? On what 
evidence, by what standards shall their verdicts be formed? The development 
of society, the advancement of civilization, involve many problems, encounter 
many and serious difficulties, and have met with deplorable reactions which 
decades and centuries were required to repair. The proper study of mankind is 


man, and any progress in science that ignores or loses sight of his welfare and 
happiness, however admirable and wonderful such progress may be, disturbs the 
equilibrium of society. 

The tendency of the times toward centralization or unification is, from an 
economic standpoint, a drifting in the right direction, but the piloting must be 
done by skillful hands, under the supervision and control of far-seeing minds, who 
will remember that the masses are human beings whose education and expanding 
intelligence are constantly broadening and emphasizing their individuality. A 
universal exposition affords to its visitors, and those who systematically study its 
exhibits and its phases, an unequaled opportunity to view the general progress and 
development of all countries and all races. Every line of human endeavor is here 

The conventions heretofore held on these grounds and many planned to be 
held aggregating over three hundred have been confined in their delibera- 
tions to special lines of thought or activity. This international congress of arts 
and sciences is the most comprehensive in its plan and scope of any ever held, 
and is the first of its kind. The lines of its organization, I shall leave the Director 
of Exhibits, who is also a member of the administrative board of this congress, to 
explain. You who are members are already advised as to its scope, and your 
almost universal and prompt acceptance of the invitations extended to you to 
participate, implies an approval which we appreciate, and indicates a willingness 
and a desire to cooperate in an effort to bring into intelligent and beneficial corre- 
lation all branches of science, all lines of thought. You need no argument to con- 
vince you of the eminent fitness of making such a congress a prominent feature 
of a universal exposition in which education is the dominant feature. 

The administrative board and the organizing committee have discharged their 
onerous and responsible tasks with signal fidelity and ability, and the success that 
has rewarded their efforts is a lasting monument to their wisdom. The manage- 
ment of the Exposition tenders to them, collectively and individually, its grateful 
acknowledgments. The membership in this congress represents the world's elect 
in research and in thought. The participants were selected after a careful survey 
of the entire field ; no limitations of national boundaries or racial affiliations 
have been observed. The Universal Exposition of 1904, the city of St. Louis, 
the Louisiana territory whose acquisition we are celebrating, the entire country, 
and all participating in or visiting this Exposition are grateful for your coming, 
and feel honored by your presence. 

We are proud to welcome you to a scene where are presented the best and high- 
est material products of all countries and of every civilization, participated in by 
all peoples, from the most primitive to the most highly cultured a marker in the 
progress of the world, and of which the International Congress of Arts and Science 
is the crowning feature. 

May the atmosphere of this universal exposition, charged as it is with the 
restless energies of every phase of human activity and permeated by that ineffable 
sentiment of universal brotherhood engendered by the intelligent sons of God, con- 
gregating for the friendly rivalries of peace, inspire you with even higher thoughts 
- imbue you with still broader sympathies, to the end that by your future labors 
you may be still more helpful to the human race and place your fellow men under 
yet deeper obligations. 

Director Frederick J. V. Skiff was then introduced by the Presi- 
dent as representing the Division of Exhibits, whose untiring labors 
had filled the magnificent Exposition palaces surrounding the Festival 
Hall with the visible products of those sciences and arts, the theory, 


progress, and problems of which the Congress was assembled to 

Mr. Skiff spoke as follows : - 

The division of exhibits of the Universal Exposition of 1904 has looked for- 
ward to this time, when the work it has performed is to be reviewed and discussed 
by this distinguished body. I do not, of course, intend to convey the idea that 
the international congress is to inspect or criticise the exhibitions, but I do mean 
to say that the deliberations of this organization are contemporaneous with and 
share the responsibility for the accomplishments of which the exhibitions made 
are the visible evidences. 

The great educational yield of a universal exposition comes from the intellec- 
tual more than from the mechanical processes. It is the material condition of the 
times. It is as well the duty of the responsible authorities to go yet further and 
record the thoughts and theories, the investigations, experiments, and observa- 
tions of which these material things are the tangible results. 

A congress of arts and science, whose membership is drawn from all educational 
as well as geographical zones, not only accounts for and analyzes the philosophy 
of conditions, but points the way for further advance along the lines consistent 
with demonstration. Its contribution to the hour is at once a history and a 

The extent to which the deliberations and utterances of this congress may 
regulate the development of society or give impulse to succeeding generations, it 
is impossible to estimate, but not unreasonable to anticipate. The plans of the 
congress matured in the minds of the best scholars; the classification of its pur- 
pose, the scope, the selection of its distinguished participants, gave to the hopes 
and ambitions of the management of the Exposition inspiration of a most exalted 
degree. At first these ambitions were not without reason regarded as too 
high. The plane upon which the congress had been inaugurated, the aim, the 
broad intent, seemed beyond the merits, if not beyond the capacity, of this hitherto 
not widely recognizedintellectual centre. But the courage of the inception, the 
loftiness of the purpose, appealed so profoundly to the toilers for truth and the 
apostles of fact, that we find gathered here to-day in the heart of the new Western 
continent the great minds whose impress on society has rendered possible the intel- 
lectual heights to which this age has ascended and now beckon forward the stu- 
dents of the world to limitless possibilities. 

While international congresses of literature, science, art, and industry have been 
accomplished by previous expositions, yet to classify and select the topics in sym- 
pathy with the classification and installation of the exhibits material is a step 
considerably in advance of the custom. The men who build an exposition must 
by temperament, if not by characteristic, be educators. They must be in sym- 
pathy with the welfare of humanity and its higher destiny. The exhibitions at this 
Exposition are not the haphazard gatherings of convenient material, but the out- 
come of a plan to illustrate the productiveness of mankind at this particular time, 
carefully digested, thoroughly thought out, and conscientiously executed. The 
exhibit, therefore, in each of the departments of the classification, as well as in the 
groups of the different departments, are of such character, and so arranged as to 
reflect the best that the world can do along departmental lines, and the best that 
different peoples can do along group lines. The congresses accord with the ex- 
hibits, and the exhibits give expression to the congresses. 

Education has been the keynote of this Exposition. Were it not for the educa- 
tional idea, the acts of government providing vast sums of money for the up- 
building of this Exposition would have been impossible. This congress reflects 
one idea vastly outstripping others, and that is, in the unity of thought in the 


universal concert of purpose. It is the first time, I believe, that there has been an 
international gathering of the authorities of all the sciences, and in that respect 
the congress initiates and establishes the universal brotherhood of scholars. 

A thought uncommunicated is of little value. An unrecorded achievement 
is not an asset of society. The real lasting value of this congress will consist of the 
printed record of its proceedings. The delivery of the addresses, reaching and 
appealing to, as must necessarily be the case, a very limited number of people, 
can be considered as only a method of reaching the lasting and perpetual good of 

In just the degree that this Exposition in its various divisions shall make a 
record of accomplishments, and lead the way to further advance, this enterprise 
has reached the expectations of its contributors and the hopes of its promoters. 
This congress is the peak of the mountain that this Exposition has builded on 
the highway of progress. From its heights we contemplate the past, record the 
present, and gaze into the future. 

This universal exposition is a world's university. The International Congress 
of Arts and Science constitutes the faculty; the material on exhibition are the 
laboratories and the museums; the students are mankind. 

That in response to invitation of the splendid committee of patriotic men, to 
whom all praise is due for their efforts in this crowning glory of the Exposition, so 
eminent a gathering of the scholars and savants of the world has resulted, speaks 
unmistakably for the fraternity of the world, for the sympathy of its citizenship, 
and for the patriotism of its people. 

In reply to these addresses of the officials of the Exposition, the 
honorary Vice-Presidents for Great Britain, France, Germany, Rus- 
sia, Austria, Italy, and Japan made brief responses in behalf of their 
respective countries. 

Sir William Ramsay of London spoke in the place of Hon. James 
Bryce, extending England's thanks for the courtesy which had been 
shown her representatives and declaring that England, particularly 
in the scientific field, looked upon America as a relative and not as 
a foreign country. 

France was represented by Professor Jean Gaston Darboux, Per- 
petual Secretary of the Academy of Sciences of Paris, who spoke as 
follows : - 

MR. PRESIDENT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, My first word will be to thank 
you for the honor which you have been so courteous as to pay my country in 
reserving for her one of the vice-presidencies of the Congress. Since the time of 
Franklin, who received at the hands of France the welcome which justice and his 
own personal genius and worth demanded, most affectionate relations have not 
ceased to unite the scientists of France and the scientists of America. The dis- 
tinction which you have here accorded to us will contribute still further to render 
these relations more intimate and more fraternal. In choosing me among so many 
of the better fitted delegates sent by my country, you have without doubt wished 
to pay special honor to the Academic des Sciences and to the Institut de France, 
which I have the honor of representing in the position of Perpetual Secretary. 
Permit me therefore to thank you in the name of these great societies, which are 
happy to count in the number of their foreign associates and of their correspond- 
ents so many of the scholars of America. In like manner as the Institut de France, 
so the Congress which opens to-day seeks to unite at the same time letters, science, 


and arts. We shall be happy and proud to take part in this work and contribute 
to its success. 

Germany was represented by Professor Wilhelm Waldeyer, of the 
University of Berlin, who replied as folio ws:- 

MR. PRESIDENT, HONORED ASSEMBLAGE, The esteemed invitation which has 
been offered to me in this significant hour of the opening of the Congress of Arts 
and Science to greet the members of this congress, and particularly my esteemed 
compatriots, I have had no desire to decline. I have been for a fortnight under 
the free sky of this mighty city so I must express myself, since enclosing walls 
are unknown in the United States and this fact, together with the hospitality 
offered me in such delightful manner by the Chairman of the Committee on Con- 
gresses, Mr. Frederick W. Lehmann, has almost made me a St. Louis man. There- 
fore I may perhaps take it upon myself to greet you here. 

I confess that I arrived here with some misgiving some doubts as to whether 
the great task which was here undertaken under most difficult circumstances 
could be accomplished with even creditable success. These doubts entirely dis- 
appeared the first time I entered the grounds of the World's Fair and obtained a 
general view of the method, beautiful as well as practical, by which the treasures 
gathered from the whole world were arranged and displayed. I trust you, too, will 
have a like experience; and will soon recognize that a most earnest and good work 
is here accomplished. 

And I must remark at this time that we Germans may indeed be well satisfied 
here; the unanimous and complete recognition which our cooperation in this 
great w T ork has received is almost disconcerting. 

What can be said of the whole Exposition with reference to its extent and the 
order in which everything is arranged, I may well say concerning the depart- 
ments of science, especially interesting to us. In this hour in which the Congress 
of Arts and Science is being opened, we shall not express any thanks to those who 
took this part of the work upon their shoulders a more difficult task indeed than 
all the others, for here the problem is not to manage materials, but heads and 
minds. And as I see here assembled a large number of German professors I, too, 
belong to the profession of whom it is said, I know not with how much justice, 
that they are hard to lead, the labors of the Directors and Presidents of the 
Congress could not have been, and are not now, small. Neither shall we to-day 
prophesy into what the Congress may develop. The greater number of speakers 
cannot expect to have large audiences, but even to-day we can safely say this : the 
imposing row of volumes in which shall be given to posterity the reviews here to 
be presented concerning the present condition, and future problems of the sciences 
and arts as they appear to the scientific world at the beginning of the twentieth 
century, will provide a monumental work of lasting value. This we may confi- 
dently expect. The thanks which we to-day do not wish to anticipate in words, let 
us show by our actions to our kind American hosts, and especially to the directors 
of the World's Fair and of this Congress. With exalted mind, forgetting all little 
annoyances which may and will come, let us go forward courageously to the work, 
and let us do our best. Let us grasp heartily the open hand honestly extended to 

May this Congress of Arts and Science worthily take part in the great and 
undisputed success which even to-day we must acknowledge the World's Fair 
at St. Louis. 

For Austria Dr. Theodore Escherich, of the University of Vienna, 
responded as follows : 


In the name of the many Austrians present at the Congress I express the thanks 
of my compatriots to the Committee which summoned us, for their invitation and 
the hospitality so cordially extended. . . . 

I congratulate the authorities upon the idea of opening this Congress. How 
many world-expositions have already been held without an attempt having been 
made to exhibit the spirit that has created this world of beautiful and useful 
things ? It was reserved for these men to find the form in which the highest results 
of human thought Science represented in the persons of her representatives, 
could be incorporated in the compass of the World's Fair. The conception of this 
International Congress of all Sciences in its originality and audacity, in its univer- 
sality and comprehensive organization, is truly a child of the " young- American 
spirit." . . . 

After this Congress has come to a close and the collection of the lectures de- 
livered, an unparalleled encyclopaedia of human knowledge, both in extent and 
content, will have appeared. We may say that this Fair has become of epochal 
importance, not alone for trade and manufactures, but also for science. These 
proud palaces will long have disappeared and been forgotten when this work, a 
monumentum acre perennius, shall still testify to future generations the standard 
of scientific attainment at the beginning of the twentieth century. 

Short acknowledgments were then made for Russia by Dr. Oscar 
Backlund, of the Astronomical Observatory at Pulkowa, Russia, and 
for Japan by Prof. Nobushige Hozumi, of the Imperial University at 
Tokio, Japan. 

The last of the Vice-Presidents to respond to the addresses of wel- 
come was Signer Attilio Brunialti, Councilor of State for Italy, who 
after a few formal words in English broke into impassioned eloquence 
in his native tongue, and in brilliant diction and graceful periods 
expressed the deep feeling and profound joy which Italy, the mother 
of arts, felt in participating in an occasion so historic and so magni- 
ficent. Signor Brunialti said in part : - 

I thank you, gentlemen, for the honor you have paid both to my country and 
myself by electing me a Vice-President of this great scientific assembly. Would 
that I could thank you in words in which vibrate the heart of Rome, the scientific 
spirit of my land, and all that it has given to the world for the progress of science, 
literature, and art. You know Italy, gentlemen, you admire her, and therefore 
it is for this also that my thanks are due to you. What ancient Rome has con- 
tributed to the common patrimony of civilization is also reflected here in a thou- 
sand ways, and a classical education, held in such honor, by a young and practical 
people such as yours, excites our admiration and also our astonishment. By giant 
strides you are reviving the activity of Italy at the epoch of the Communes, when 
all were animated by unwearying activity and our manufactures and arts held 
the first place in Europe. I have already praised here the courageous spirit which 
has suggested the meeting of this Congress a Congress that will remain famous 
in the annals of science. Many things in your country have aroused in me grow- 
ing surprise, but nothing has struck me more, I assure you, than this homage to 
science which is pushing all the wealthy classes to a noble rivalry for the increase 
of education and mental cultivation. 

You have already large libraries and richly endowed universities, and every 
kind of school, where the works of Greece and Rome are perhaps even more appre- 
ciated and adapted to modern improvements than with us old classical nations. 


Full of energy, activity, and wealth, you have before you perpetual progress, and 
what, up to this, your youth has not allowed you to give to the world, you will 
surely be able to give in the future. Use freely all the treasures of civilization, art, 
and science that centuries have accumulated in the old world, and especially in 
my beloved Italy; fructify them with your youthful initiation and with your 
powerful energy. By so doing you will contribute to peace, and then we may say 
with truth that we have prepared your route by the work of centuries; and like 
unto those who from old age are prevented from following the bold young man 
of Longfellow in his course, we will accompany you with our greetings and our 
alterable affection. 

By my voice, the native country of Columbus, of Galileo, of Michelangelo and 
Raphael, of Macchiavelli and Volta, salutes and with open arms hails as her hope- 
ful daughter young America, thanking and blessing her for the road she has 
opened to the sons of Italy, workmen and artists, to civilization, to science, and to 
modern research and thought. 

The Chairman of the Administrative Board, President Nicholas 
Murray Butler, of Columbia University, was prevented by illness in 
his family from being present at the Congress, and in place of the 
address to have been delivered by him on the idea and development 
of the Congress and the work of the Administrative Board, President 
William R. Harper, of the University of Chicago, spoke on the same 
subject as follows: - 

I have been asked within a few hours by those in authority to present to you 
on behalf of the Administrative Board of this International Congress a statement 
concerning the origin and purpose of the congress. It is surely a source of great 
disappointment to all concerned that the chairman of the board, President Butler, 
is prevented from being present. 

Many of us recall the fact that at the Paris Exposition of 1889 the first attempt 
was made to do something systematic in the way of congresses. This attempt was 
the natural outcome of the opinion which had come to exist that so splendid an 
opportunity as was afforded by the coming together of leaders in every depart- 
ment of activity should not be suffered to pass by unimproved. What could be 
more natural in the stimulating and thought-provoking atmosphere of an exposi- 
tion than the proposal to make provision for a consideration and discussion of 
some of the problems so closely related to the interests represented by the exposi- 

The results achieved at the Paris Exposition of 1889 were so striking as to lead 
those in charge of the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago, 1893, to organize 
what was called the World's Congress Auxiliary, including a series of congresses, 
in which, to use the language of the original decree, " the best workers in general 
science, philosophy, literature, art, agriculture, trade, and labor were to meet to 
present their experiences and results obtained in all those various lines of thought 
up to the present time." Seven years later, in connection with the Paris Exposition 
of 1900, there was held another similar series of international congresses. The 
general idea had in this way slowly but surely gained recognition. 

The authorities of the Universal Exposition at St. Louis, from the first, recog- 
nized the desirability of providing for a congress which should exceed in its scope 
those that had before been attempted. In the earliest days of the preparation for 
this Exposition Mr. Frederick J. V. Skiff, the Director of the Field Columbian 
Museum, my nearest neighbor in the city of Chicago, took occasion to present this 
idea, and particularly to emphasize the specific point that something should be 


undertaken which not only might add dignity and glory to the great name of the 
Exposition, but also constitute a permanent and valuable contribution to the 
sum of human knowledge. After a consideration of the whole question, which 
extended over many months, the committee on international congresses resolved 
to establish an administrative board of seven members, to which should be com- 
mitted the responsibility of suggesting a plan in detail for the attainment of the 
ends desired. This Board was appointed in November, 1902, and consisted of 
President Nicholas Murray Butler, of Columbia University, New York; President 
R. H. Jesse, of the University of Missouri; President Henry S. Pritchett, of the 
Massachusetts Institute of Technology; Dr. Herbert Putnam, Librarian of Con- 
gress; Mr. Frederick J. V. Skiff, of the Field Columbian Museum, Chicago; Fred- 
erick G. Holls, of New York City, and the present speaker. 

This Board held several meetings for the study of the questions and problems 
involved in the great undertaking. Much valuable counsel was received and con- 
sidered. The Board was especially indebted, however, to Prof. Hugo Munsterberg 
of Harvard University for specific material which he placed at their disposal 
material which, with modification, served as the basis of the plans adopted by the 
Board, and recommended to the members of the Exposition. 

At the same time the Administrative Board recommended the appointment of 
Dr. Howard J. Rogers as the Director of Congresses, and nominated Prof. Simon 
Newcomb of the United States Navy to be President of the Congress, and Pro- 
fessors Hugo Munsterberg of Harvard University and Albion W. Small of the 
University of Chicago to be Vice-Presidents of the Congress; the three to consti- 
tute the Organizing Committee of the Congress. This Organizing Committee was 
later empowered to visit foreign countries and to extend personal invitations to men 
distinguished in the arts and sciences to participate in the Congress. The recep- 
tion accorded to these, our representatives, was most cordial. Of the 150 invita- 
tions thus extended, 117 were accepted; and of the 117 learned savants who 
accepted the invitation, 96 are here in person this afternoon to testify by their pre- 
sence the interest they have felt in this great concourse of the world's leaders. I 
am compelled by necessity this afternoon to omit many points of interest in rela- 
tion to the origin and history of the undertaking, all of which will be published in 
due time. 

After many months of expectancy we have at last come together from all the 
nations of the world. But for what purpose? I do not know that to the statement 
already published in the programme of the Congress anything can be added which 
will really improve that statement. The purpose, as it has seemed to some of us, 
is threefold: 

In the first place, to secure such a general survey of the various fields of learn- 
ing, with all their ''subdivisions and multiplication of specialties," as will at the 
same time set forth their mutual relations and connections, and likewise constitute 
an effort toward the unification of knowledge. This idea of unity has perhaps been 
uppermost in the minds of all concerned with the work of organizing the Congress. 

In the second place, to provide a platform from which might be present; d the 
various problems, a solution of which will be expected of the scholarship of the 
future. This includes a recognition of the fundamental principles and conception 
that underlie these mutual relations, and therefore serve necessarily as the basis 
of all such future work. Here again the controlling idea is that of unity and law, 
in other words, universal law. 

In the third place, to bring together in person and spirit distinguished investi- 
gators and scholars from all the countries of the world, in order that by contact of 
one with another a mutual sympathy may be promoted, and a practical coopera- 
tion may be effected among those whose lifework leads them far apart. Here, still 
again, unity of result is sought for. 


As we now take up the work of this convention, which already gives sure 
promise of being notable among the conventions that have called together men 
of different nations, let us confidently assure ourselves that the great purpose 
which has throughout controlled in the different stages of its organization will be 
realized; that because the Congress has been held, the nations of the earth will 
find themselves drawn more closely together; that human thought will possess 
a more unified organization and human life a more unified expression. 

Following these addresses of welcome and of response came the 
first paper of the specific programme, designed to be introductory to 
the division, department, and section addresses of the week. This 
address, which will be found in full in its proper place, on pages 135 to 
147 of this volume, was given by Dr. Simon Newcomb, President of 
the Congress and Chairman of the Organizing Committee, whose 
labors for fifteen months were thus brought to a brilliant conclusion. 

At the close of Dr. Newcomb 's address the assembly was dismissed 
by a few words of President Francis, in which he placed at the disposi- 
tion of the members of the Congress the courtesies and privileges of 
the Exposition, and expressed the hope and belief that their presence 
and the purpose for which they were assembled, would be the crown- 
ing glory of the Universal Exposition of 1904. 

On Tuesday, September 20, the seven division addresses and the 
twenty-four department addresses were given, all the speakers being 
Americans : Royce, in Normative Science; Wilson, in Historical 
Science; Woodward, in Physical Science; Hall, in Mental Science; 
Jordan, in Utilitarian Science; Lowell, in Social Regulation; and 
Harris, in Social Culture, treating the main divisions of science and 
their applications, each dwelling particularly on the scope of the great 
field included in his address and the unification of the work therein. 
The forty-eight department speakers divided the field of knowledge, 
one address in each department giving the fundamental conceptions 
and methods, the other the history and development of the work of 
the department during the last century. 

With Wednesday the international participation began, and in the 
one hundred twenty-eight sections into which the departments were 
divided one half of the speakers were drawn, so far as circum- 
stances permitted, from foreign scientific circles. With the exception 
of the last two sections, Religious Influence Personal, and Religious 
Influence Social, the work of the Congress closed on Saturday after- 
noon. These two sections having four speakers each were placed, one 
on Sunday morning and one on Sunday afternoon, in Festival Hall, 
and passes to the grounds given upon application to any one desiring 
to attend. Large numbers availed themselves of the privilege, and the 
closing hours of the Congress were eminently suitable and worthy of 
its high success. At the end of the afternoon session in Festival Hall, 
Vice-President of the Congress, Dr. Albion W. Small, reviewed in a 
few words the work of the week, its meaning to science, its possible 


effect upon American thought, and then formally announced the 
Congress closed. 


The official banquet given by the Exposition to all participants, 
members, and officials of the Congress, on Friday evening, at the 
Tyrolean Alps banquet hall, proved a charming conclusion to the 
labors of the week. No better place could be imagined for holding it, 
within the grounds of an exposition, than the magnificently propor- 
tioned music and dining hall of the " Alps." A room 160 feet by 105 
feet, capable of seating fifteen hundred banqueters; the spacious, 
oval, orchestral stage at the south end; the galleries and boxes along 
the sides of the hall done in solid German oak; the beautiful and 
impressive mural decorations, the work of the best painters of Ger- 
many; the excellence of the cuisine, and the thoroughly drilled corps 
of waiters, rendered the physical accessories of a banquet as nearly 
perfect as possible in a function so extensive. 

The banquet was the largest held during the Exposition period, 
eight hundred invitations being issued and nearly seven hundred 
persons present. The music was furnished by the famous Garde 
Republicaine Band of France, as the Exposition orchestra was 
obliged to fill its regular weekly assignment at Festival Hall. The 
decorations of the hall, the lights and flowers, the musical pro- 
gramme, the galleries and boxes filled with ladies representing the 
official and social life of the Exposition, and the distinguished body 
of the Congress, formed a picture which appealed to the admiration 
and enthusiasm of every one alike. No attempt was made to assign 
seats to the banqueters outside the speakers' table, and little coteries 
and clusters of scientists, many of whom were making acquaintances 
and intellectual alliances during this week which would endure for 
a lifetime, were scattered about the hall, giving an interest and an ani- 
mation to the scene quite beyond the powers of description. In one 
corner were Harnack, Budde, Jean Reville, and Cuthbert Hall, chat- 
ting as animatedly as though their religious theories were not as far 
apart as the poles; in another, Waldeyer, Escherich, Jacobi, Allbutt, 
and Kitasato formed a medical group, the counterpart of which would 
be hard to find unless in another part of this same hall; still again 
were Erdmann, Sorley, Ladd, Royce, and Creighton as the centre of 
a group of philosophers of world renown. So in every part of the 
picture which met the eye were focused the leaders of thought and 
action in their respective fields. The tout ensemble of the Congress was 
here brought out in its strongest effect, as, with the exception of the 
opening exercises at Festival Hall at which time many had not arrived, 
it was the only time when the entire membership was together. The 
.banquet coming at the close of the week was also fortunate, as by this 


time the acquaintances made, and the common incidents and anec- 
dotes experienced, heightened the enjoyment of all. 

The toastmaster of the banquet and presiding officer, Hon. David 
R. Francis, was never in a happier vein than when he assumed the 
gavel and proposed the health of the President of the United States 
and the rulers of all nations represented at the board. 

President Francis said : 


On the facade at the base of the Louisiana Monument, which is the central 
feature of this Exposition picture, is a group of Livingston, Monroe, and Marbois. 
It represents the signing of the treaty, which by peaceful negotiation transferred 
an empire from France to the United States. Upon the inscription are the words 
of Livingston, " We have lived long and accomplished much, but this is the 
crowning act of our lives." 

It is that transfer of an empire which this Exposition is held to commemo- 
rate. And paraphrasing the words of Livingston, permit me to say that I have 
presided over many dinners, but this is the crowning act of my career. 

In opening the deliberations of the International Congress of Arts and Science, 
I made the statement that a Universal Exposition is an ambitious undertaking. 
I stated also that the International Congress of Arts and Science is the crowning 
feature of this Exposition. I did not venture the assertion then which I have the 
presumption to make now, that the most difficult task in connection with this 
Universal Exposition was the assembling of an International Congress of Arts 
and Science. I venture to make the statement now, because I feel that I am justi- 
fied in doing so by the success which up to the present has attended your delibera- 
tions. Any congregation of the leaders of thought in the world is a memorable 
occasion. This is the first systematic one that has ever been attempted. Whether 
it proves successful or not, it will be long remembered in the history of the civilized 
countries that have participated in it. If it be but the precursor of other like 
assemblages it will still be long remembered, and in that event it will be entitled 
to unspeakable credit if it accomplishes anything toward the realization of the 
very laudable objects which prompted its assembling. 

The effort to unify all human knowledge and to establish the inter-relations 
thereof is a bold conception, and requires the courage that characterizes the 
people who live in the western section of the United States. If it be the last effort 
of the kind it will still be remembered, and this Universal Exposition, if it had 
done nothing else to endear it to cultured people of this and other countries, will 
not b forgotten. The savants assembled by the call of this Exposition have pur- 
sued their respective lines of thought and research, prompted by no desire other 
than one to find a solution of the problem which confronts humanity. By bringing 
you together and making an effort to determine and establish the relations between 
all lines of human knowledge, we have certainly made an advance in the right 
direction. If your researches, if the results of your studies, can be utilized by 
the human race, then we who have been the instruments of that great blessing 
will be entitled to credit secondary only to the men who are the discoverers of 
the scientific knowledge whose relations we are endeavoring to establish. The 
Management of the Universal Exposition of 1904 salutes the International Con- 
gress of Arts and Science. We drink to the perpetuation of that organization, and 
I shall call upon its distinguished President, Professor Newcomb, to respond to 
the sentiment. 

Dr. Newcomb in a few words thanked the members of the Congress 


for their participation, which had made possible the brilliant success 
of the enterprise, portrayed its effect and the influence of its perpetua- 
tion, and then extended to all the invitation from the President of 
the United States to attend the reception at the White House on the 
following Tuesday. 

In responding to these toasts the senior Honorary Vice-President, 
Hon. James Bryce, of Great Britain, spoke in matchless form and 
held the attention of the vast hall closely while he portrayed in a few 
words the chief glories of England in the field of science, and the 
pride the English nation felt in the glorious record made by her 
eldest daughter, the United States. Mr. Bryce spoke extempora- 
neously, and his remarks cannot be given in full. 

For Germany, Commissioner-General Lewald responded in an 
eloquent address, in which, after thanking the Exposition and the 
American Government for the high honor done the German nation in 
selecting so large a percentage of the speakers from German scien- 
tific circles, he enlarged upon the close relations which had existed 
between German university thought and methods and American 
thought and practice, due to the vast number of American students 
who had pursued their post-graduate courses in the universities of 
Germany. He dwelt upon the pride that Germany felt in this sincerest 
form of tribute to German supremacy in scientific thought, and of the 
satisfaction which the influence in this country of German-trained 
students afforded. He described at length the great exhibit made by 
German universities in the education department of the Exposition, 
and pointed to it as demonstrating the supremacy of German scienti- 
fic thought and accurate methods. Dr. Lewald closed with a brilliant 
peroration, in which he referred to the immense service done for the 
cause of science in the last fifty years of German history and to the 
patronage and support of the Emperor, not only to science in general, 
but to this great international gathering of scientific experts, and 
drank to the continued cordial relations of Germany and America 
through its university circles and scientific endeavors. 

For the response from France, Prof. Gaston Darboux was dele- 
gated by Commissioner-General Gerald , who was unable to be present 
on account of sickness. In one of the most bea*utiful and polished 
addresses of the evening, Professor Darboux spoke in French, of which 
the following is a translation : - 

GENTLEMEN, Graciously invited to respond in the name of the delegates 
of France who have accepted the invitation of the American Government, I con- 
sider it my duty in the first place to thank this great nation for the honor which 
it has paid to us, and for the welcome which it has extended to us. Those of you 
who are doing me the honor to listen, know of that disagreeable feeling of isolation 
which at times the traveler in the midst of a strange people experiences; that 
feeling I know only from hearsay. We have not had a moment of time to experi- 
ence it. They are accustomed in Europe to portray the Americans as exclusively 


occupied with business affairs. They throw in our faces the famous proverb,' Busi- 
ness is Business,' and give it to us as the rule of conduct for Americans. We are 
able to testify entirely to the contrary, since the inhabitants of this beautiful coun- 
try are always seeking to extend to strangers a thousand courtesies. Above all, we 
have encountered no one who has not been anxious to go out of his way to give 
to us, even before we had asked it, such information as it was necessary for us to 
have. And what shall I say of the welcome which we have received here at the 
hands of our American confreres, Monsieur the President of the Exposition, 
Monsieur the Director of Congresses and other worthy colaborers? The authori- 
ties of the Exposition and the inhabitants of St. Louis have rivaled each other in 
making our stay agreeable and our ways pleasant in the heart of this magnificent 
Exposition, of which we shall ever preserve the most enchanting memory. 

We should have wished to see in a more leisurely manner, and to make 
acquaintance with the attractions without number with which the Exposition 
literally swarms (men of letters and men of science love at times to disport 
themselves) and to study the exhibits classified in a method so exact in the 
palaces of an architecture so original and so impressive. But Monsieur Newcomb 
has not permitted this. The Congress of which he is the illustrious President offers 
so much in the way of attractions, of a kind a little rigorous it is true, and so 
much of work to be accomplished, that to our very great regret we have had to 
refuse many invitations which it would have been most agreeable to accept. The 
Americans will pardon us for this, I am sure; they know better than any one else 
the value of time, but they know also that human strength has some limits, espe- 
cially among us poor Europeans, for I doubt whether an American ever knows 
the meaning of fatigue. 

Messieurs, the Congress which is about to terminate to-morrow has been truly 
a very great event. It is the first time, I believe, that there has been seen assembled 
in one grand international reunion that which our great minister, Colbert, had in 
mind, and that which we have realized for the first time in our Institut de France, 
the union of letters, science, and arts. That this union shall maintain itself in 
the future is the dearest wish of my heart. 

Science is a unit, even as the Universe. The aspects which it presents know 
neither boundaries of states nor the political divisions established between peoples . 
In all civilized countries they calculate with the same figures, they measure with 
the same instruments, they employ the same classifications, they study the same 
historic facts, economics, and morals. If there exists among the different nations 
some differences in methods, these differences are slight. They are a benefit at the 
same time as well as a necessity. For the doing of the immense amount of work 
of research imposed on that part of humanity which thinks, it is necessary that 
the subjects of study should not be identically the same, or better, if they are 
identical, that the difference between the points of view from which they are con- 
sidered in the different countries contribute to our better knowledge of their 
nature, their results, and their applications. It is necessary then that each people 
preserve their distinctive genius, their particular methods which they use to 
develop the qualities they have inherited. In exactly the same way that it is 
important in an orchestra that each instrument play in the most perfect manner, 
and with the timbre which accords with its nature, the part which is given to it, 
so in science as in music, the harmony between the players is a necessary condi- 
tion, which each one ought to exert himself to realize. Let us endeavor then in 
scientific research to execute in the most perfect manner that part of the task 
which fate has devolved upon us, but let us endeavor also to maintain that accord 
which is a necessary condition to the harmony which will alone be able in the 
future to assure the progress of humanity. 

Gentlemen, in this international reunion it would not be fitting that I dwell 


upon the services which my country has been able to render to science; and on 
the other hand it would be difficult for me to say to you exactly what part America 
is called upon to take in this concert of civilized nations ; but I am certain that the 
part will be worthy of the great nation which has given to itself a constitution so 
liberal and which in so short a space of time has known how to conquer, and 
measure in value, a territory so immense that it extends from ocean to ocean. I 
lift my glass to the honor of American science; I drink to the future of that great 
nation, for which we, as well as all other Frenchmen, hold so much of common 
remembrance, so much of close and living sympathy, and so much of profound 
admiration. I am the more happy to do this in this most beautiful territory of 
Louisiana, which France in a former age ceded freely to America. 

Perhaps the treat of the evening was the response made in behalf 
of the Empire of Japan by Professor Hozumi, of the Faculty of Law 
of the University of Tokio. 

Unfortunately this response was not preserved in full, but Professor 
Hozumi dwelt with much feeling on the world- wide significance of the 
Congress and the common plane upon which all nations might meet 
in the pursuit of science and the manifold applications of scientific 
principles. He paid a beautiful tribute to the educational system of the 
United States and to the great debt which Japan owed to American 
scholars and to American teachers for their aid in establishing mod- 
ern educational principles and methods in the Empire of Japan. The 
impetus given to scientific study in Japan by the Japanese students 
trained in American universities was also earnestly dwelt upon, and 
the close relations which had always existed between Japanese and 
American students and instructors feelingly described. In the field 
of science Japan was yet young, but she had shown herself a close 
and apt pupil, and her period of initiative and original research was 
at hand. In bacteriology, in medicine, in seismology, oceanography, 
and other fields, Japan has made valuable contributions to science 
and established the right to recognition in an international gathering 
of this nature. It was with peculiar and grateful pride and pleasure 
that the Japanese Government had sent its delegation to this Con- 
gress of selected experts in response to the invitation of the American 
Government. Near the close of his address Professor Hozumi made 
a gracious and happy allusion, based upon the conflict with Russia, 
in which he said that of all places where men meet, and of all places 
sunned by the light of heaven, this great Congress, built on the high 
plane of the brotherhood of science and the fellowship of scholars, 
was the only place where a Japanese and a Russian could meet in 
mutual accord, with a common purpose, and clasp hands in unity of 
thought. This chivalrous and beautiful idea, given here so imper- 
fectly from memory, brought the great assembly to its feet in rounds 
of cheers. In closing, Professor Hozumi expressed the earnest belief 
that the benefits of science from a gathering of this nature would 
quickly be felt, by a closer cooperation in the application of theory 


and practical principles and a simultaneous advance in all parts of the 

The closing response of the evening for the foreign members was 
made for Italy by Signor Attilio Brunialti, whose brilliant eloquence 
at many times during the week had won the admiration of the mem- 
bers of the Congress. Under the inspiration of this assemblage he 
fairly surpassed himself, and the following translation of his remarks 
but poorly indicates the grace and brilliant diction of the original : - 

I have had the good fortune to be present in this wonderful country at three 
international Congresses, that of science, the peace parliament, and the geo- 
graphic. I wishto record the impression they have excited in my mind, already so 
favorably inclined by your never-to-be-forgotten and gracious reception. You 
must, please, allow me to address you in my own language, because the Latin 
tongue inspires me, because I wish to affirm more solemnly my nationality, and 
also, because I cannot express my feelings well in a language not familiar to me. 
My country, the land of Columbus, of Galileo, the nation that more than all others 
in Europe is an element of peace, is already in itself the synthesis of the three 
Congresses. And I can call to mind that this land is indebted to geography for 
the fact of its being made known to the Avorld, because the immortal Genoese 
pointed it out to people fighting in the old world for a small territory, and opened 
to mortals new and extensive countries destined to receive the valiant and the 
audacious of the entire world and to rise like yours to immortal glory. 

Thus the poet can sing, - 

L' avanza, 1' avanza 
Divino straniero, 
Conosci la stanza 
Che i fati ti diero; 
Se lutti, se lagrime 
Ancora rinterra 
L' giovin la terra. 

Thus Columbus of old could point out to men who run down each other, 
disputing even love for fear that man may become a wolf for man the vast 
and endless wastes awaiting laborers, and give to man the treasures of the fruit- 
ful land. 'T is in the name of peace that I greet modern science in all its forms, 
and I say to you chemists: ''Invent new means of destruction;" and to you 
mechanics and shipbuilders: " Give us invulnerable men-of-war and such per- 
fect cannons, that your own progress may contribute to make war rarer in the 
world." Then will men, amazed at their own destructive progress, be drawn 
together by brotherly love, by the development of common knowledge and 
sympathy, and by the study of geography be led to know that there is plenty of 
room for every one in the world to contribute to progress and civilization. 

Americans! these sentiments are graven in your country; in point of fact, it is 
a proof of the harmony that reigns in this Congress between guests come from all 
parts of the world, that I, an Italian, am allowed to address you in my own lan- 
guage on American ground, near the Tyrolean Alps, greeted by the music of the 
Re"publicaine French Garde, united in eternal bonds of friendship by the two 
great goddesses of the modern world, Science and Peace. 

The last speaker of the evening was Hon. Frederick W. Lehmann, 
Chairman of the Exposition Committee on Congresses, who in elo- 
quent periods set forth the ambition of the city of St. Louis and the 


Exposition of 1904 in creating a Congress of intellect on the same high 
plane that had characterized the educational ideals of the Exposition, 
and the intense satisfaction which the officials of the Congress felt in 
its brilliant outcome, and the possibilities which it promised for an 
unequaled contribution to scientific literature. 

At the close of these addresses the members of the Congress and 
the spectators in the gallery sang, in full chorus and under the lead of 
the Garde Republicaine Band, the various national anthems, closing 
with "The Star Spangled Banner." 


In accordance with the recommendation of the Administrative 
Board to the Committee on Congresses, the Executive Committee 
appointed Dr. Howard J. Rogers, Director of Congresses, editor of 
the proceedings of the Congress of Arts and Science. The Congress 
records were removed from St. Louis to Albany, New York, the home 
of the Director, from which place the publication has been prepared. 
Upon collecting the papers it was found that they could be divided 
logically , and with a fair degree of similarity in size, into eight volumes, 
each of which should cover a definite and distinct portion of the pro- 
gramme. These are as follows: - 

Volume 1. History of the Congress, Scientific Plan of the Congress, 

Philosophy, Mathematics. 
Volume 2. Political and Economic History, History of Law, History 

of Religion. 
Volume 3. History of Language, History of Literature, History of 


Volume 4. Physics, Chemistry, Astronomy, Sciences of the Earth. 
Volume 5. Biology, Anthropology, Psychology, Sociology. 
Volume 6. Medicine, Technology. 

Volume 7. Economics, Politics, Jurisprudence, Social Science. 
Volume 8. Education, Religion. 

The details and specifications of the volumes were prepared for 
competitive bids and submitted to twelve of the prominent publish- 
ers of the country. The most advantageous bid was received from 
Houghton, Mifflin & Company of Boston, Mass., and was accepted 
by the Exposition Company. The Administrative Board and the 
authorities of the Exposition feel deeply pleased at the result, inas- 
much as the imprint of this firm guarantees a work in full accord with 
the high plane upon which the Congress has been conducted. 

It was determined to print the entire proceedings in the English 
language, inasmuch as the Congress was held in an English-speaking 
country and the vast majority of the papers were read in that lan- 
guage. The consent of every foreign speaker was obtained for this 


procedure. It was found , after collecting , that the number of addresses 
to be translated was forty-four. The translators were selected by 
the editor upon the advice of the members of the Administrative 
Board and Organizing Committee, and great care was taken to find 
persons not only thoroughly trained in the two languages and pos- 
sessing a good English style, but also persons who were thoroughly 
conversant with the subject on which the paper treated. Many of 
the translators were suggested by the foreign speakers themselves. 
As a result of this careful selection, the editor feels confident that the 
original value of the papers has been in no wise detracted from, and 
that both in form and content the translations are thoroughly satis- 

It will be found that some addresses are not closely related to the 
scheme of the Congress. Either through some misunderstanding of the 
exact purpose of the Congress, or through too close devotion to their 
own particular phase of investigation, some half-dozen speakers sub- 
mitted papers dealing with special lines of work. These, while valu- 
able and scholarly from their standpoint, do not accord with a series 
of papers prepared with a view to general relations and historical 
perspective. The exceptions are so few, however, as not seriously to 
interfere with the unity of the plan. 

In the arrangement of the papers the order of the official pro- 
gramme is followed exactly, with the exception that, under Historical 
Science, Departments 3, 4, and 8, covering History of Politics, Law, 
and Religion, are combined in one volume; and Departments 5, 6, 
and 7, covering History of Language, Literature, and Art, are com- 
bined in the succeeding volume. In volume one, the first chapter is 
devoted to the history of the Congress, written by the editor, in which 
is set forth the plain narrative of the growth and development of 
the Congress, as much for the benefit of similar undertakings in the 
future as for the interest of those participating in this Congress. The 
second chapter contains the scientific introduction, written by Prof. 
Hugo Munsterberg of Harvard University, First Vice-President of 
the Congress and Member of the Organizing Committee. This is 
written for the purpose of giving in detail the principles upon which 
the classification was based, and the relations which the different 
sections and departments held to each other. 

Each paper is prefaced by a very short biographical note in cate- 
gorical form, for the purpose of insuring the identity of the speaker 
as long in the future as the volumes may exist. Appended to the ad- 
dresses of each department is a short bibliography, which is essential 
for a general study of the subject in question. These are in no wise 
exhaustive or complete, but are rather designed to be a small, valu- 
able, working reference library for students. The bibliographies have 
been prepared by eminent experts in the departments of the Con- 


gress, but are necessarily somewhat uneven, as some of the writers 
have gone into the subject more thoroughly than others. The general 
arrangement of the bibliographies is: 1. Historical books and stand- 
ard works dealing with the subject. 2. General books for the whole 
department. 3. Books for sections of departments. 

Appended also to the addresses of each department and sections 
are resumes of the ten-minute addresses delivered by invitation at 
the meeting of the department or section. Many of these papers are of 
high value; but inasmuch as very few of them were written in accord 
with the plan of the Congress, and with the main thought to be de- 
veloped by the Congress, but deal rather with some interesting and 
detached phase of the subject, it has been deemed best not to print 
them in full, but to indicate in brief the subject and the treatment 
given it by the writer. Those which do accord with the plan of the 
Congress are given more extensive treatment. 


What the results of the Congress will be; what influence it may 
have; was it worth the work and cost, are questions often fairly asked. 

The lasting results and influences are of course problematical. 
They depend upon the character and soundness of the addresses, and 
whether the uniform strength of the publication will make the work 
as a whole, what it undoubtedly is in parts, a source-book for the 
future on the bases of scientific theory at the beginning of the twenti- 
eth century, and a reliable sketch of the growth of science during the 
nineteenth century. Critical study of the addresses will alone deter- 
mine this, but from the favorable reception of those already pub- 
lished in reviews, and from editorial acquaintance with the others, 
it seems assured. That portion of the section addresses which deals 
with the inter-relations of science and demonstrates both its unity 
and variety of processes is new and authoritative thought, and will be 
the basis of much discussion and remodeling of theories in the future. 

The immediate results of the Congress are highly satisfactory, 
and fully repay the work and the cost both from a scientific and an 
exposition standpoint. As an acknowledgment of the prominence 
of scientific methods, as a public recognition of the work of scientists, 
as the means of bringing to one place the most noted assemblage of 
thinkers the world has ever seen, as an opportunity for scholars to 
meet and know each other better, the Congress was an unqualified 
success and of enduring reputation. From the Exposition point of 
view, it was equally a success; not financially, nor was there ever 
a thought that it would be. Probably not more than seven thousand 
persons outside of St. Louis came primarily to attend the Congress, 
and their admission fees were a bagatelle; the revenue derived from 
the sale of the Proceedings will not meet the cost of printing. There 


has been no money value sought for in the Congress, - - none received. 
Its value to the Exposition lies solely in the fact that it is the final 
argument to the world of the initial claims of the officials of the 
Exposition that its purpose was purely educational. Coordinate with 
the material exhibits, sought, classified, and installed on a rigidly 
scientific classification, the Congress, which relates, illumines, and 
defends the principles upon which the material portion was founded, 
has triumphantly vindicated the good faith, the wisdom, and the 
foresight of the Universal Exposition of 1904. This printed record of 
its proceedings will be a monument not only to the spirit of Science, 
but to the spirit of the Exposition, which will endure as long as the 
records of man are preserved. 

In conclusion, the editor wishes to express his obligations to the 
many speakers and officers of the Congress, who have evinced great 
interest in the publication and assisted by valuable suggestions and 
advice. In particular, he acknowledges the help of President Butler 
of Columbia University, Professor Miinsterberg of Harvard Uni- 
versity, and Professor Small of the University of Chicago. Acknow- 
ledgments are with justice and pleasure made to the Committee on 
Congresses of the Exposition, and the able chairman, Hon. Frederick 
W. Lehmann, for their unwavering and prompt support on all mat- 
ters of policy and detail, without which the full measure of success 
could not have been achieved. To the efficient secretary of the 
Department of Congresses, Mr. James Green Cotchett, an expression 
of obligation is due for his indefatigable labors during the Congress 
period, and for his able and painstaking work in compiling the 
detailed records of this publication. 

At a meeting of the Executive Committee of the Exposition on 
January 3, 1905, there was unanimously voted the following resolu- 
tion, recommended by the Administrative Board and approved by 
the Committee on Congresses : 

MOVED : that a vote of thanks and an expression of deepest obliga- 
tion be tendered to Dr. Simon Newcomb, President of the Congress, 
Prof. Hugo Miinsterberg, vice-president of the Congress, and Prof. 
Albion W. Small, vice-president of the Congress, for their efficient, 
thorough, and comprehensive work in connection with the pro- 
gramme of the Congress, the selection and invitation of speakers, 
and the attention to detail in its execution. That, in view of the 
enormous amount of labor devolving upon these three gentlemen 
for the past eighteen months, to the exclusion of all opportunities 
for literary and other work outside their college departments, an 
honorarium of twenty-five hundred dollars be tendered to each of 


At a subsequent meeting the following resolution was also passed : 
MOVED : that the Directors of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition 
Company place upon the record an expression of their appreciation 
of the invaluable aid so freely given by the Administrative Board 
of the Congress of Arts and Science. In organization, guidance, and 
results the Congress was the most notable of its kind in history. 
For the important part performed wisely and zealously by the Admin- 
istrative Board the Exposition Management extends this acknow- 


Office expenses $7,025 82 

Travel 3,847 24 

Exploitation, Organizing Committee abroad . . . 8,663 16 

Traveling expenses, American Speakers 31,350 

Traveling expenses, Foreign Speakers 49,000 

Honorariums 7,500 

Banquet 3,500 

Expenses for editing proceedings 5,875 

Estimated cost of printing proceedings 22,000 $138,761 22 



SEPTEMBER 19-26 1904 



Purpose and Plan of the Congress 

Organization of the Congress 

Speakers and Chairmen 

Chronological Order of Proceedings 

Programme of Social Events 

List of Ten-minute Speakers 

List of Chairmen and Principal Speakers 


Division A. Normative Science 

Department i. Philosophy 

Sec. A. Metaphysics 

B. Philosophy of Religion 

C. Logic 

D. Methodology of Science 

E. Ethics 

F. Esthetics 

Department 2. Mathematics 

Sec. A. Algebra and Analysis 

B. Geometry 

C. Applied Mathematics 

Division B. Historical Science 

Department 3. Political and 
Economic History 

Sec. A. History of Asia 

B. History of Greece and Rome 

C. Mediaeval History 

D. Modern History of Europe 

E. History of America 

F. History of Economic Institu- 


Department 4. History of Law 

Sec. A. History of Roman Law 

B. History of Common Law 

C. Comparative Law 

Department 5. History of 

Sec. A. Comparative Language 

B. Semitic Language 

C. Indo-Iranian Languages 

D. Greek Language 

E. Latin Language 

F. English Language 

G. Romance Languages 
H. Germanic Languages 

Department 6. History of Lit- 

Sec. A. Indo-Iranian Literature 

B. Classical Literature 

C. English Literature 

D. Romance Literature 

E. Germanic Literature 

F. Slavic Literature 

G. Belles-Lettres 

Department 7. History of Art 

Sec. A. Classical Art 

B. Modern Architecture 

C. Modern Painting 

Department 8. History of Re- 

Sec. A. Brahminism and Buddhism 

B. Mohanimedism 

C. Old Testament 

D. New Testament 

E. History of the Christian 




Division C. Physical Science 

Department 13. Biology 

Sec. A. Phylogeny 

B. Plant Morphology 

C. Plant Physiology 

D. Plant Pathology 

E. Ecology 

F. Bacteriology 

G. Animal Morphology 
H. Embryology 

I. Comparative Anatomy 
J. Human Anatomy 
K. Physiology 

Department 14. Anthropology 

Sec. A. Somatology 

B. Archaeology 

C. Ethnology 

Department 9. Physics 

Sec. A. Physics of Matter 

B. Physics of Ether 

C. Physics of the Electron 

Department 10. Chemistry 

Sec. A. Inorganic Chemistry 

B. Organic Chemistry 

C. Physical Chemistry 

D. Physiological Chemistry 

Department u. Astronomy 

Sec. A. Astrometry 
B. Astrophysics 

Department 12. Sciences of the 

Sec. A. Geophysics 

B. Geology 

C. Palaeontology 

D. Petrology and Mineralogy 

E. Physiography 

F. Geography 

G. Oceanography 
H. Cosmical Physics 

Division D. Mental Science 
Department 15. Psychology Department 16. Sociology 

Sec. A. General Psychology Sec. B. Social Structure 

B. Experimental Psychology C. Social Psychology 

C. Comparative and Genetic 


D. Abnormal Psychology 

Division E. Utilitarian Sciences 

Department 17. Medicine 

Sec. A. Public Health 

B. Preventive Medicine 

C. Pathology 

D. Therapeutics and Phar- 


E. Internal Medicine 

F. Neurology 

G. Psychiatry 
H. Surgery 

I. Gynecology 

J. Ophthalmology 

K. Otology and Laryngology 

L. Pediatrics 

Department 18. Technology 

Sec. A. Civil Engineering 

B. Mechanical Engineering 

C. Electrical Engineering 

D. Mining Engineering 

E. Technical Chemistry 

F. Agriculture 

Department 19. Economics 

Sec. A. Economic Theory 

B. Transportation 

C. Commerce and Exchange 

D. Money and Credit 

E. Public Finance 

F. Insurance 



Division F. Social Regulation 
Department 20. Politics Department 22. Social Science 

Sec. A. The Family 

B. The Rural Community 

C. The Urban Community 

D. The Industrial Group 

E. The Dependent Group 

F. The Criminal Group 

Sec. A. Political Theory 

B. Diplomacy 

C. National Administration 

D. Colonial Administration 

E. Municipal Administration 

Department 21. Jurisprudence 

Sec. A. International Law 

B. Constitutional Law 

C. Private Law 

Division G. Social Culture 
Department 23. Education Department 24. Religion 

Sec. A. General Religious Educa- 

B. Professional Religious Edu- 


C. Religious Agencies 

D. Religious Work 

E. Religious Influence: Per- 


F. Religious Influence : Social 

Sec. A. Educational Theory 

B. The School 

C. The College 

D. The University 

E. The Library 


THE idea of the Congress grows out of the thought that the sub- 
division and multiplication of specialties in science has reached a stage 
at which investigators and scholars may derive both inspiration and 
profit from a general survey of the various fields of learning, planned 
with a view of bringing the scattered sciences into closer mutual 
relations. The central purpose is the unification of knowledge, an 
effort toward which seems appropriate on an occasion when the 
nations bring together an exhibit of their arts and industries. An 
assemblage is therefore to be convened at which leading represent- 
atives of theoretical and applied sciences shall set forth those general 
principles and fundamental conceptions which connect groups of 
sciences, review the historical development of special sciences, show 
their mutual relations and discuss their present problems. 

The speakers to treat the various themes are selected in advance 
from the European and American continents. The discussions will 
be arranged on the following general plan : - 

After the opening of the Congress on Monday afternoon, Septem- 
ber 19, will follow, on Tuesday forenoon, addresses on main divisions 
of science and its applications, the general theme being the unification 
of each of the fields treated. These will be followed by two addresses 
on each of the twenty-four great departments of knowledge. The 
theme of one address in each case will be the Fundamental Concep- 
tions and Methods, while the other will set forth the progress during 
the last century. The preceding addresses will be delivered by Ameri- 
cans, making the work of the first two days the contribution of 
American scholars. 

On the third day, with the opening of the sections, the international 
work will begin. One hundred twenty-eight sectional meetings will 
be held on the four remaining days of the Congress, at each of 
which two papers will be read, the theme of one being suggested by 
the relations of the special branch treated to other branches; the 
other by its present problems. Three hours will be devoted to each 
sectional meeting, thus enabling each hearer to attend eight such 
meetings, if he so desires. The programme is so arranged that related 
subjects will be treated, as far as possible, at different times. The 
length of the principal addresses being limited to forty-five minutes 
each, there will remain at least one hour for five or six brief communi- 
cations in each section. The addresses in each department will be 
collected and published in a special volume. 


It is hoped that the living influence of this meeting will be yet more 
important than the formal addresses, and that the scholars whose 
names are announced in the following programme of speakers and 
chairmen will form only a nucleus for the gathering of thousands who 
feel in sympathy with the efforts to bring unity into the world of 




Universal Exposition, 1904. 



President of Columbia University, Chairman. 


President of the University of Chicago. 

R. H. JESSE, PH.D., LL.D. 

President of the University of Missouri. 


President of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. 


Librarian of Congress. 


Director of the Field Columbian Museum. 



Retired Professor U, S. N. 


Professor of Psychology in Harvard University. 


Professor of Sociology in The University of Chicago. 














Permanent Secretary American Association 
for the Advancement of Science. 




(Hall 6, September 20, 10 a. TO.) 






(Hall 6, September 20, 11.15 a. m.) 

PROFESSOR BORDEN P. BOWNE, Boston University. 

METAPHYSICS. (Hall 6, September 21, 10 a. m.) 

PROFESSOR A. C. ARMSTRONG, Wesleyan University. 
PROFESSOR A. E. TAYLOR, McGill University, Montreal. 
PROFESSOR A. O. LOVEJOY, Washington University. 

SECTION B. PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION. (Hall 1, September 21,3p.m.) 

inary, N. Y. 


SECRETARY: DR. W. P. MONTAGUE, Columbia University. 




LOGIC. (Hall 6, September 22, 10 a. m.) 


DR. W. H. SHELDON, Columbia University. 

SECTION D. METHODOLOGY OF SCIENCE. (Hall 6, September 22, 3 p. m.) 


SECRETARY: DR. R. B. PERRY, Harvard University. 

SECTION E. ETHICS. (Hall 6, September 23, 10 a. m.) 


PROFESSOR PAUL HENSEL, University of Erlangen. 
SECRETARY : PROFESSOR F. C. SHARP, University of Wisconsin. 



SECTION F. AESTHETICS. (Hall 4, September 23, 3 p. TO.) 


PROFESSOR MAX DESSOIR, University of Berlin. 
SECRETARY: PROFESSOR MAX MEYER, University of Missouri. 

(Hall 7, September 20, 11.15 a. TO.) 



SECTION A. ALGEBRA AND ANALYSIS. (Hall 9, September 22, 10 a. TO.) 

CHAIRMAN: PROFESSOR E. H. MOORE, University of Chicago. 

of the Institute of France. 

SECRETARY: PROFESSOR G. A. BLISS, University of Chicago. 

SECTION B. GEOMETRY. (Hall 9, September 24, 10 a. TO.) 

CHAIRMAN: PROFESSOR M. W. HASKELL, University of California. 

SPEAKERS: M. GASTON DARBOUX, Perpetual Secretary of the 

Academy of Sciences, Paris. 
DR. EDWARD KASNER, Columbia University. 






APPLIED MATHEMATICS. (Hall 7, September 24, 3 p. TO.) 


Worcester, Mass. 


of the Institute of France. 
PROFESSOR HENRY T. EDDY, University of Minnesota. 


(Hall 3, September 20, 10 a. TO.) 


(Hall 4, September 20, 11.15 a. TO.) 


PROFESSOR JAMES H. ROBINSON, Columbia University. 



September 21, 10 a. m.) 





PROFESSOR JOHN P. MAHAFFY, University of Dublin. 

PROFESSOR ETTORE PAIS, University of Naples. Direc- 
tor of the National Museum of Antiquities, Naples. 

PROFESSOR HENRI CORDIER, Ecole des Langues Viv- 
antes Orientales, Paris. 

PROFESSOR EDWARD CAPPS, University of Chicago. 

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY. (Hall 6, September 21, 3 p. m.) 




SECRETARY: PROFESSOR EARLE W. Dow, University of Michigan. 


(Hall 3, September 22, 


10 a. m.) 

SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR J. B. BURY, University of Cambridge. 



SECTION E. HISTORY OF AMERICA. (Hall 1, September 24, 10 a. m.) 




ber 23, 3 p. m.) 

SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR J. E. CONRAD, University of Halle. 

PROFESSOR SIMON N. PATTEN, University of Penn- 


(Hall 5, September 20, 11.15 a. m.) 

the Supreme Court of the United States. 


Court of Iowa, Iowa City. 


SECTION A. HISTORY OF ROMAN LAW. (Hall 11, September 21, 3 p. m.) 


SPEAKERS: MR. W. H. BUCKLER, Baltimore, Md. 

PROFESSOR MUNROE SMITH, Columbia University. 



SECTION B. HISTORY OF COMMON LAW. (Hall 11, September 21, 10 a. m.) 

CHAIRMAN: PROFESSOR JOHN D. LAWSON, University of Missouri. 

Court of Errors, New Haven, Conn. 
PROFESSOR C. H. HUBERICH, University of Texas. 





COMPARATIVE LAW. (Hall 14, September 24, 3 p. m.) 

PROFESSOR ALFRED NERINCX, University of Louvain. 




(Hall 4, September 20, 2 p. m.) 

PROFESSOR GEORGE HEMPL, University of Michigan. 
PROFESSOR T. R. LOUNSBURY, Yale University. 

SECTION A. COMPARATIVE LANGUAGE. (Hall 4, September 21, 10 a. m.) 

SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR CARL D. BUCK, University of Chicago. 


SECRETARY: PROFESSOR E. W. FAY, University of Texas, Austin, 






SEMITIC LANGUAGES. (Hall 4, September 21, 3 p. m.) 

PROFESSOR G. F. MOORE, Harvard University. 
PROFESSOR JAMES A. CRAIG, University of Michigan. 
PROFESSOR CRAWFORD H. TOY, Harvard University. 

INDO-IRANIAN LANGUAGES. (Hall 8, September 22, 10 a. m.) 

PROFESSOR SYLVAIN LEVI, College de France, Paris. 

SECTION D. GREEK LANGUAGE. (Hall 3, September 22, 3 p. m.) 

CHAIRMAN : PROFESSOR MARTIN L. D'Ooos, University of Michigan. 



SECRETARY: PROFESSOR J. E. HARRY, University of Cincinnati. 

SECTION E. LATIN LANGUAGE. (Hall 9, September 23, 10 a. m.) 

PROFESSOR WILLIAM G. HALE, University of Chicago. 
SECRETARY: PROFESSOR F. W. SHIPLEY, Washington University. 


SECTION F. ENGLISH LANGUAGE. (Hall 3, September 23, 3 p. TO.) 




SECTION G. ROMANCE LANGUAGES. (Hall 5, September 24, 10 a. m.) 


SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR PAUL MEYER, College de France, Paris. 
PROFESSOR HENRY A. TODD, Columbia University. 

SECTION H. GERMANIC LANGUAGES. (Hall 3, September 24, 3 p. TO.) 




(Hall 6, September 20, 4.15 p. m.) 



SECTION A. INDO-IRANIAN LITERATURE. (Hall 8, September 24, 3p.m.) 



SPEAKER: PROFESSOR A. V. W. JACKSON, Columbia University. 

SECTION B. CLASSICAL LITERATURE. (Hatt 3, September 21, 3 p. TO.) 


PROFESSOR JOHN H. WRIGHT, Harvard University. 

SECTION C. ENGLISH LITERATURE. (Hatt 1, September 22, 10 a. m.) 



PROFESSOR JOHN HOOPS, University of Heidelberg. 

SECTION D. ROMANCE LITERATURE. (Hatt 8, September 22, 3 p. TO.) 

SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR Pio RAJNA, Institute of Higher Studies, 

Florence, Italy. 
PROFESSOR ALCEE FORTIER, Tulane University, New 

SECRETARY: DR. COMFORT, Haverford College. 



















GERMANIC LITERATURE. (Hall 3, September 23, 10 a. TO.) 

PROFESSOR KUNO FRANCKE, Harvard University. 
PROFESSOR AUGUST SAUER, University of Prague. 
PROFESSOR J. MINOR, University of Vienna. 
PROFESSOR D. K. JESSEN, Bryn Mawr College. 

SLAVIC LITERATURE. (Hall 8, September 21, 10 a. TO.) 

PROFESSOR LEO WIENER, Harvard University. 
PROFESSOR PAUL BOYER, Ecole des Langues Vivantes 

Orientales, Paris. 
MR. S. N. HARPER, University of Chicago. 

BELLES-LETTRES. (Hall 3, September 24, 10 a. m.) 

PROFESSOR ROBERT HERRICK, University of Chicago. 


(Hall 8, September 20, 11.15 a. TO.) 

PROFESSOR HALSEY C. IVES, Washington University, 

St. Louis. 


CLASSICAL ART. (Hall 12, September 22, 10 a. TO.) 



PROFESSOR FRANK B. TARBELL, University of Chicago. 
: DR. P. BAUR, Yale University. 

MODERN ARCHITECTURE. (Hall 7, September 22, 3 p. TO.) 

MR. CHARLES F. McKiM, New York City. 
PROFESSOR C. ENLART, University of Paris. 
MR. GUY LOWELL, Boston, Mass. 

MODERN PAINTING. (Hall 4, September 24, 3 p. TO.) 

PROFESSOR RICHARD MUTHER, University of Breslau. 


(Hall 5, September 20, 2 p. TO.) 




10 a. m.) 















DR. REGINALD C. ROBBINS, Harvard University. 

MOHAMMEDISM. (Hall 8, September 23, 3 p. m.) 

PROFESSOR JAMES R. JEWETT, University of Chicago. 
PROFESSOR IGNAZ GOLDZIHER, University of Budapest. 
logical Seminary. 

OLD TESTAMENT. (Hall 4, September 22, 10 a. TO.) 

PROFESSOR A. S. CARRIER, McCormick Theological 

PROFESSOR JAMES F. McCuRDY, University College of 


PROFESSOR KARL BUDDE, University of Marburg. 
PROFESSOR JAMES A. KELSO, Western Theological 

Seminary, Allegheny, Pa. 

NEW TESTAMENT. (Hall 1, September 23, 10 a. m.) 

PROFESSOR ANDREW C. ZENOS, McCormick Theological 


PROFESSOR ERNEST D. BURTON, University of Chicago. 
PROFESSOR CLYDE W. VOTAW, University of Chicago. 

tember 24, 10 a. m.) 

DR. ERI BAKER HULBERT, University of Chicago. 
PROFESSOR ADOLF HARNACK, University of Berlin. 
PROFESSOR JEAN REVILLE, Faculty of Protestant 
Theology, Paris. 


(Hall 4, September 20, 10 a. m.) 



(Hall 6, September 20, 2 p. TO.) 

PROFESSOR HENRY CREW, Northwestern University. 
PROFESSOR CARL BARUS, Brown University. 



PHYSICS OF MATTER. (Hall 11, September 23, 10 a. TO.) 

National Bureau of Standards, Washington. 



PROFESSOR R. A. MILLIKEN, University of Chicago. 

PHYSICS OF ETHER. (Hall 11, September 23, 3 p. m.) 

PROFESSOR HENRY CREW, Northwestern University. 


SECTION C. PHYSICS OF THE ELECTRON. (Hall 5, September 22, 3 p. m.) 



SECRETARY: PROFESSOR W. J. HUMPHREYS, University of Virginia. 















(Hall 5, September 20, 4.15 p. m.) 

PROFESSOR JAMES M. CRAFTS, Massachusetts Institute 

of Technology. 

PROFESSOR JOHN U. NEF, University of Chicago. 

Geological Survey. 

INORGANIC CHEMISTRY. (Hall 16, September 21, 10 a. m.) 

PROFESSOR JOHN W. MALLET, University of Virginia. 

of the Institute of France. 

SIR WILLIAM RAMSAY, K.C.B., Royal Institution, 


ORGANIC CHEMISTRY. (Hall 16, September 21, 3 p. m.) 






PHYSICAL CHEMISTRY. (Hall 16, September 22, 10 a. m.) 

SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR J. H. VAN T'HOFF, University of Berlin. 

PROFESSOR ARTHUR A. NOYES, Massachusetts Institute 

of Technology. 
SECRETARY: MR. W. R. WHITNEY, Schenectady, N. Y. 


3 p. TO.) 


SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR O. COHNHEIM, University of Heidelberg. 

SECRETARY: DR. C. L. ALSBERG, Harvard University. 


(Hall 8, September 20, 4.15 p. TO.) 

Observatory, Madison, Wisconsin. 

SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR LEWIS Boss, Director of Dudley Observa- 

vard Observatory. 

SECTION A. ASTROMETRY. (Hall 9, September 21, 10 a. TO.) 


SPEAKERS: DR. OSKAR BACKLUND, Director of the Observatory, 

Pulkowa, Russia. 

PROFESSOR JOHN C. KAPTEYN, University of Gronin- 
gen, Holland. 


SECTION B. ASTROPHYSICS. (Hall 9, September 21, 3 p. m.) 


ity of Oxford. 

Lick Observatory, Mt. Hamilton, California. 

SECRETARY: MR. W. S. ADAMS, Yerkes Observatory. 


(Hall 3, September 20, 11.15 a. TO.) 

CHAIRMAN: DR. G. K. GILBERT, U. S. Geological Survey. 

PROFESSOR WILLIAM M. DAVIS, Harvard University. 

SECTION A. GEOPHYSICS. (Hall 14, September 21, 10 a. m.) 


SPEAKER: DR. GEORGE F. BECKER, Geologist, U. S. Geological 
























GEOLOGY. (Hall 14, September 21, 3 p. TO.) 

PROFESSOR T. C. CHAMBERLIN, University of Chicago. 

PROFESSOR R. D. SALISBURY, University of Chicago. 
PALAEONTOLOGY. (Hall 11, September 22, 10 a. m.) 

PROFESSOR WILLIAM B. SCOTT, Princeton University. 
DR. A. S. WOODWARD, F.R.S., British Museum of 

Natural History, London. 

PROFESSOR HENRY F. OSBORN, Columbia University. 
DR. JOHN M. CLARKE, Albany, N. Y. 

PETROLOGY AND MINERALOGY. (Hall 9, September 22, 
3 p. m.) 

DR. OLIVER C. FARRINGTON, Field Columbian Museum, 

PROFESSOR F. ZIRKEL, University of Leipzig. 

PHYSIOGRAPHY. (Hall 12, September 21, 10 a. m.) 

MR. HENRY GANNETT, United States Geological Survey. 
PROFESSOR ALBRECHT PENCK, University of Vienna. 
PROFESSOR ISRAEL C. RUSSELL, University of Michigan. 
DR. JOHN M. CLARKE, Albany, N. Y. 

GEOGRAPHY. (Hall 11, September 22, 3 p. m.) 

PROFESSOR ISRAEL C. RUSSELL, University of Michigan. 
DR. HUGH R. MILL, Director British Rainfall Organ- 
ization, London. 

PROFESSOR H. YULE OLDHAM, Cambridge, England. 
PROFESSOR R. D. SALISBURY, University of Chicago. 

OCEANOGRAPHY. (Hall 8, September 21, 3 p. m.} 



SIR JOHN MURRAY, K.C.B., F.R.S., Edinburgh. 
PROFESSOR K. MITSUKURI, University of Tokio. 

COSMICAL PHYSICS. (Hall 10, September 22, 10 a. m.} 

PROFESSOR FRANCIS E. NiPHER,Washington University. 
holm, Stockholm. 

DR. ABBOTT L. ROTCH, Blue Hill Observatory. 
DR. L. A. BAUER, Washington, D. C. 


(Hall 2, September 20, 11.15 a. m.*) 

PROFESSOR JOHN M. COULTER, University of Chicago. 
PROFESSOR JACQUES LOEB, University of California. 


SECTION A. PHYLOGENY. (Hall 2, September 21, 3 p. TO.) 




PROFESSOR T. H. MORGAN, Columbia University. 
PROFESSOR HUGO DE VRIES, University of Amsterdam. 

SECTION B. PLANT MORPHOLOGY. (Hall 2, September 22, 10 c. TO.) 

ity, St. Louis. 

PROFESSOR KARL F. GOEBEL, University of Munich. 

SECRETARY: PROFESSOR F. E. LLOYD, Columbia University. 

SECTION C. PLANT PHYSIOLOGY. (Hall 4, September 22, 3 p. TO.) 



PROFESSOR F. C. NEWCOMB, University of Michigan. 


SECTION D. PLANT PATHOLOGY. (Hall 7, September 23, 10 a. TO.) 

CHAIRMAN: PROFESSOR CHAS. E. BESSEY, University of Nebraska. 

MERTON B. WAITE, U. S. Department of Agriculture. 

DR. C. S. SHEAR, U. S. Department of Agriculture. 


SECTION E. ECOLOGY. (Hall 7, September 23, 3 p. m.) 



PROFESSOR OSKAR DRUDE, Kon. Technische Hoch- 

schule, Dresden. 

PROFESSOR F. E. CLEMENTS, University of Nebraska. 

SECTION F. BACTERIOLOGY. (Hall 15, September 24, 10 a. TO.) 



DR. P. H. Hiss, JR., Columbia University. 


SECTION G. ANIMAL MORPHOLOGY. (Hall 2, September 21, 10 a. TO.) 

CHAIRMAN: DR. LELAND O. HOWARD, Department of Agriculture, 

Washington, D. C. 


of the Institute of France. 


SECTION H. EMBRYOLOGY. (Hall 9, September 23, 3 p. m.) 



SECRETARY: PROFESSOR T. G. LEE, University of Minnesota. 

SECTION I. COMPARATIVE ANATOMY. (Hall 2, September 24, 3 p. m.) 



PROFESSOR YVES DELAGE, The Sorbonne; Member of 
the Institute of France. 

SECRETARY: PROFESSOR HENRY B-. WARD, University of Nebraska. 

SECTION J. HUMAN ANATOMY. (Hall 2, September 22, 3 p. m.) 


PROFESSOR H. H. DONALDSON, University of Chicago. 
SECRETARY: DR. R. J. TERRY, Washington University. 

SECTION K. PHYSIOLOGY. (Hall 4, September 23, 10 a. m.) 


SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR MAX VERWORN, University of Gottingen. 


(Hall 8, September 20, 2 p. m.) 


SPEAKERS: DR. WJ McGEE, President American Anthropological 

Association, Washington, D. C. 
. PROFESSOR FRANZ BOAS, Columbia University. 

SECTION A. SOMATOLOGY. (Hall 16, September 23, 3 p. m.) 


DR. GEORGE A. DORSEY, Field Columbian Museum, 


SECTION B. ARCHAEOLOGY. (Hall 16, September 24, 10 a. m.) 

CHAIRMAN: MR. M. H. SAVILLE, American Museum of Natural 

History, New York. 
SPEAKERS: SENOR ALFREDO CHAVERO, Inspector of the National 

Museum, Mexico. 

PROFESSOR EDOUARD SELER, University of Berlin. 


SECTION C. ETHNOLOGY. (Hall 16, September 24, 3 p. m.) 

CHAIRMAN: Miss ALICE C. FLETCHER, President of the Washing- 
ton Anthropological Society. 

PROFESSOR A. C. HADDON, University of Cambridge. 
SECRETARY: PROFESSOR F. W. SHIPLEY, Washington University. 



(Hall 7, September 20, 10 a. m.) 

PRESIDENT G. STANLEY HALL, Clark University, Wor- 
cester, Mass. 












(Hall 7, September 20, 2 p. m.) 

PROFESSOR JAMES McK. CATTELL, Columbia University. 

GENERAL PSYCHOLOGY. (Hall 6, September 23, 3 p. TO.) 

PROFESSOR Jos. ROYCE, Harvard University. 


PROFESSOR JAMES WARD, University of Cambridge, 

DR. W. H. DAVIS, Lehigh University. 

EXPERIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGY. (Hall 2, September 23, 
10 a. m.) 

PROFESSOR EDWARD A. PACE, Catholic University of 


DR. R. S. WOODWORTH, Columbia University. 

September 24, 10 a. m.} 


Worcester, Mass. 
PRINCIPAL C. LLOYD MORGAN, University College, 


PROFESSOR MARY W. CALKINS, Wellesley College. 
DR. R. M. YERKES, Harvard University. 

ABNORMAL PSYCHOLOGY. (Hall 6, September 24, 3 p. m.) 

DR. EDWARD COWLES, Waverley, Mass. 
DR. PIERRE JANET, College de France, Paris. 
DR. ADOLPH MEYER, New York City. 




(Hall 7, September 20, 4.15 p. m.) 


PROFESSOR GEORGE E. VINCENT, University of Chicago. 

SECTION A. SOCIAL STRUCTURE. (Hall 15, September 21, 10 a. m.) 


PROFESSOR F. TOENNIES, University of Kiel. 

PROFESSOR LESTER F. WARD, U. S. National Museum. 




SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY. (Hall 15, September 23, 10 a. m.) 


PROFESSOR WM. I. THOMAS, University of Chicago. 
PROFESSOR EDWARD A. Ross, University of Nebraska. 



(Hall 1, September 20, 10 a. m.) 


(Hall 1, September 20, 4.15 p. m.) 

CHAIRMAN: DR. WILLIAM OSLER, Johns Hopkins University. 
DR. FRANK BILLINGS, University of Chicago. 

SECTION A. PUBLIC HEALTH. (Hall 13, September 21, 10 a. m.) 

CHAIRMAN: DR. WALTER WYMAN, Surgeon-General of the U. S. 

Marine Hospital Service. 

Institute of Technology. 
DR. ERNST J. LEDERLE, Former Commissioner of 

Health, New York City. 
SECRETARY: DR. H. .M BRACKEN, St. Paul, Minn. 


SECTION B. PREVENTIVE MEDICINE. (Hall 13, September 21, 3 p. TO.) 

CHAIRMAN: DR. JOSEPH M. MATHEWS, President of the State Board 

of Health, Louisville, Ky. 
SPEAKER: PROFESSOR RONALD Ross, F.R.S., School of Tropical 

Medicine, University College, Liverpool. 
SECRETARY: DR. J. N. HTJRTY, Indianapolis, Ind. 

SECTION C. PATHOLOGY. (Hall 13, September 22, 10 a. TO.) 

feller Institute. 

PROFESSOR JOHANNES ORTH, University of Berlin. 

SECRETARY: DR. W. McN. MILLER, University of Missouri. 

tember 24, 3 p. TO.) 

CHAIRMAN: DR. HOBART A. HARE, Jefferson Medical College. 

SECRETARY: DR. H. B. FAVILL, Chicago, 111. 

SECTION E. INTERNAL MEDICINE. (Hall 13, September 23, 3 p. TO.) 



of Cambridge. 


SECRETARY: DR. R. C. CABOT, Boston, Mass. 

SECTION F. NEUROLOGY. (Hall 13, September 22, 3 p. m.) 




SECTION G. PSYCHIATRY. (Hall 7, September 22, 10 a. TO.) 


SPEAKERS: DR. CHARLES L. DANA, Cornell University, New York. 


SECTION H. SURGERY. (Hall 13, September 23, 10 a. TO.) 

CHAIRMAN: PROFESSOR CARL BECK, Post-Graduate Medical School, 

New York. 

College, New York City. 

PROFESSOR JOHANNES ORTH, University of Berlin. 
SECRETARY: DR. J. F. BINNIE, Kansas City, Mo. 


SECTION I. GYNECOLOGY. (Hall 13, September 24, 10 a. TO.) 


lege, Chicago. 

SECRETARY: DR. G. H. NOBLE, Atlanta, Ga. 

SECTION J. OPHTHALMOLOGY. (Hall 7, September 24, 10 a. TO.) 

CHAIRMAN: DR. GEORGE C. HARLAN, Philadelphia, Pa. 

DR. GEORGE M. GOULD, Philadelphia, Pa. 

SECRETARY: DR. WM. M. SWEET, Jefferson Medical College, Phil- 
adelphia, Pa. 

10 a. TO.) 

versity, St. Louis. 

SPEAKER: SIR FELIX SEMON, C.V.O., Physician Extraordinary 
to His Majesty, the King, London. 

SECRETARY: DR. S. SPENCER, Allenhurst, N. J. 

SECTION L. PEDIATRICS. (Hall 7, September 21, 3 p. TO.) 




(Hall 3, September 20, 2 p. TO.) 

versity, St. Louis. 

versity, Montreal. 

SECTION A. CIVIL ENGINEERING. (Hall 10, September 21, 10 a. TO.) 


SPEAKERS: DR. J. A. L. WADDELL, Consulting Engineer, Kansas 


MR. LEWIS M. HAUPT, Consulting Engineer, Phila- 


3 p. TO.) 





3 p. m.) 



PROFESSOR MICHAEL I. PUPIN, Columbia University. 
SECRETARY: MR. CARL HERING, Philadelphia, Pa. 

SECTION D. MINING ENGINEERING. (Hall 11, September 24, 10 a. m.) 



Institute of Technology. 



SECTION E. TECHNICAL CHEMISTRY. (Hall 16, September 23, 10 a. m.) 

CHAIRMAN: DR. H. W. WILEY, Department of Agriculture. 



stitute of Technology. 


SECTION F. AGRICULTURE. (HaU 10, September 24, 3 p. m.) 




(Hall 1, September 20, 11.15 a. m.) 



PROFESSOR ADOLPH C. MILLER, University of Cali- 

SECTION A. ECONOMIC THEORY. (Hall 15, September 22, 10 a. m.) 




SECRETARY: PROFESSOR JESSE E. POPE, University of Missouri. 

SECTION B. TRANSPORTATION. (HaU 10, September 23, 10 a. m.) 



of Vienna. 



SECTION C. COMMERCE AND EXCHANGE. (Hall 10, September 24, 
10 a. m.) 


SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR E. D. JONES, University of Michigan. 
PROFESSOR CARL PLEHN, University of California. 

SECTION D. MONEY AND CREDIT. (Hall 5, September 24, 3 p. m.) 

CHAIRMAN: MR. B. E. WALKER, Canadian Bank of Commerce, 




SECTION E. PUBLIC FINANCE. (Hall 1, September 21, 10 a. m.) 


SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR HENRY C. ADAMS, University of Michigan. 

SECTION F. INSURANCE. (Hall 10, September 21, 3 p. m.) 

surance Company, New York. 

SPEAKERS: MR. FREDERICK L. HOFFMAN, Statistician, Prudential 

Insurance Company, Newark. 




(Hall 2, September 20, 10 a. m.) 


(Hall 2, September 20, 2 p. m.) 




TRATION. (Hall 15, September 22, 3 p. m.) 




RIGHT HON. JAMES BRYCE, London, England. 
SECRETARY: DR. CHARLES E. MERRIAM, University of Chicago. 

SECTION B. DIPLOMACY. (Hall 1, September 23, 3 p. TO.) 


HONORABLE DAVID JAYNE HILL, Minister of the United 

States to Switzerland. 

10 a. TO.) 

SPEAKERS : PROFESSOR BERNARD J. MOSES, University of California. 
PROFESSOR PAUL S. REINSCH, University of Wisconsin. 

3 p. TO.) 


SPEAKERS: MR. ALBERT SHAW, Editor American Monthly Review 

of Reviews. 
Miss JANE ADDAMS, Hull House, Chicago. 




(Hall 3, September 20, 4.15 p. TO.) 


versity, Washington. 
PROFESSOR JOSEPH H. BEALE, Harvard University. 

SECTION A. INTERNATIONAL LAW. (Hall 14, September 22, 10 a. TO.) 


Brussels, Belgium. 


SECRETARY: DR. W. C. DENNIS, Leland Stanford Jr. University. 

SECTION B. CONSTITUTIONAL LAW. (Hall 14, September 24, 10 a. TO.) 


Washington University, Washington. 

PROFESSOR JOHN W. BURGESS, Columbia University. 







PRIVATE LAW. (Hall 14, September 23, 3 p. TO.) 

PROFESSOR JAMES B. AMES, Dean, Harvard Law School. 
PROFESSOR ERNST FREUND, University of Chicago. 




















(Hall 1, September 20, 2 p. TO.) 

MR. WALTER L. SHELDON, Ethical Society, St. Louis. 
PROFESSOR FELIX ADLER, Columbia University. 

THE FAMILY. (Hall 5, September 21, 10 a. TO.) 

PROFESSOR SAMUEL G. SMITH, University of Minnesota. 
DR. SAMUEL W. DIKE, Auburndale, Mass. 

THE RURAL COMMUNITY. (Hall 5, September 21, 3 p. TO.) 

HON. AARON JONES, Master of National Grange, South 

Bend, Ind. 

PROFESSOR MAX WEBER, University of Heidelberg. 

State Agricultural College. 
PROFESSOR WILLIAM HILL, University of Chicago. 

THE URBAN COMMUNITY, (Hall 5, September 22, 10 a. TO.) 

PROFESSOR T. JASTROW, University of Berlin. 
PROFESSOR Louis WUARIN, University of Geneva. 

THE INDUSTRIAL GROUP. (Hall 14, September 22, 3 p. TO.) 

PROFESSOR WERNER SOMBART, University of Breslau. 
PROFESSOR RICHARD T. ELY, University of Wisconsin. 

THE DEPENDENT GROUP. (Hall 5, September 23, 10 a. TO.) 


DR. EMIL MUNSTERBERG, President City Charities, 


THE CRIMINAL GROUP. (Hall 5, September 23, 3 p. TO.) 

MR. FREDERICK H. Wines, Secretary State Charities 
Aid Association, Upper Montclair, N. J. 





(Hall 5, September 20, 10 a. m.) 

missioner of Education. 






(Hall 2, September 20, 4.15 p. m.) 


EDUCATIONAL THEORY. (Hall 12, September 24, 3 p. m.) 

PROFESSOR WILHELM REIN, University of Jena. 
PROFESSOR ELMER E. BROWN, University of Califor- 
: DR. G. M. WHITTLE, Cornell University. 



(Hall 12, September 23, 10 a. m.) 

DR. F. Louis SOLDAN, Superintendent Public Schools, 

St. Louis. 

SPEAKERS: DR. MICHAEL E. SADLER, University of Manchester. 
DR. WILLIAM H. MAXWELL, Superintendent Public 

Schools, New York City. 


SECTION C. THE COLLEGE. (Hall 12, September 23, 3 p. m.) 

CHAIRMAN: PRESIDENT W. S. CHAPLIN, Washington University. 


SECTION D. THE UNIVERSITY. (Hall 12, September 24, 10 a. m.) 


SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR C. CHABOT, University of Lyons. 


SECTION E. THE LIBRARY. (Hatt 12, September 22, 3 p. m.) 


Public Library. 
SPEAKERS: MR. WILLIAM A. E. AXON, Manchester, England. 

PROFESSOR GUIDO BIAGI, Royal Librarian, Florence. 
SECRETARY: MR. C. P. PETTUS, Washington University. 



(Hall 4, September 20, 4.15 p. m.) 



24, 3 p. m.) 

Richmond, Ind. 


DR. WALTER L. HERVEY, Examiner Board of Education, 
New York City. 


tember 22, 3 p. m.) 


logical Seminary. 

House, Chicago, 111. 

SECTION C. RELIGIOUS AGENCIES. (Hall 15, September 23, 3 p. m.) 

Theological Seminary, Louisville, Ky. 


REV. JAMES M. BUCKLEY, Editor The Christian Ad- 
vocate, New York. 

SECRETARY: DR. IRA LANDRITH, General Secretary Religious Edu- 
cation Association, Chicago, 111. 

SECTION D. RELIGIOUS WORK. (Hall 1, September 24, 3 p. m.) 


SPEAKERS: REV. FLOYD W. TOMKINS, Church of the Holy Trinity, 

REV. HENRY C. MABIE, Corresponding Secretary 

American Baptist Missionary Union. 

tember 25, 10 a. m.) 

CHAIRMAN: CHANCELLOR J. H. KIRKLAND, Vanderbilt University. 
SPEAKERS: REV. HUGH BLACK, Edinburgh, Scotland. 


REV. SAMUEL ELIOT, Boston, Mass. 

REV. EDWARD B. POLLARD, Georgetown, Ky. 


ber 25, 3 p. m.) 

DR. EMIL G. HIRSCH, Chicago, 111. 
PROFESSOR EDWARD C. MOORE, Harvard University. 
DR. JOSIAH STRONG, League for Social Service, New 




3 P. M. Opening exercises of the Congress. Festival Hall (Hall 17). 

The Congress will be called to order by the Director of Congresses, 
who will introduce the President of the Exposition. 

Welcoming addresses will be delivered by the President of the 
Exposition and other officials. 

A reply to these addresses of welcome will be made on behalf of the 
Congress by the Honorary Vice-President for Great Britain. 

The Chairman of the Administrative Board will give an account of 
the origin and purpose of the Congress. 

The President of the Congress will then be introduced and will 
deliver an introductory address, after which adjournment will follow. 


10.00 A. M. Meetings of the seven Divisions. The Divisional ad- 
dresses will be given as follows: 

Hall 1, Utilitarian Sciences. Hall 5, Social Culture. 

Hall 2, Social Regulation. Hall 6, Normative Science. 

Hall 3, Historical Science. Hall 7, Mental Science. 
Hall 4, Physical Science. 

11.15 to 6.00 P. M. Meetings of the Departments, with addresses: 
Meeting at 11.15 A. M. Meeting at 2 p. M. 


Hall 1, Economics. Hall 1, Social Science. 

Hall 2, Biology. Hall 2, Politics. 

Hall 3, Sciences of the Earth. Hall 3, Technology. 

Hall 4, Political History. Hall 4, History of Language. 

Hall 5, History of Law. Hall 5, History of Religion. 

Hall 6, Philosophy. Hall 6, Physics. 

Hall 7, Mathematics. Hall 7, Psychology. 

Hall 8, History of Art. Hall 8, Anthropology. 

Adjournment at 1 P. M. Adjournment at 3.45 P. M. 


Hall 1, Medicine. 
Hall 2, Education. 
Hall 3, Jurisprudence. 
Hall 4, Religion. 

Meeting at 4.15 P. M. 


Hall 5, Chemistry. 
Hall 6, History of Literature. 
Hall 7, Sociology. 
Hall 8, Astronomy. 
Adjournment at 6. P. M. 

On the four days following, the Sectional meetings will be held. 
The duration of each session will be three hours. The morning ses- 
sions will extend from 10 A. M. until 1 P. M.; the afternoon sessions 
from 3 P. M. to 6 P. M. 

The meetings of some of the religious sections will be held on 
Sunday, September 25, in Festival Hall. Further announcements 
concerning these Sunday Meetings will be made in Registration Hall, 
in the daily press of St. Louis, and in the World's Fair Official Pro- 


Meeting at 10 A. M. 

1, Public Finance. 

2, Animal Morphology. 

3, History of Greece, Rome, 

and Asia. 

4, Comparative Language. 

5, The Family. 

6, Metaphysics. 

7, Otology and Laryngo- 


8, Slavic Literature. 

9, Astrometry. 
Hall 10, Civil Engineering. 

Hall 11, History of Common Law. 
Hall 12, Physiography. 
Hall 13, Public Health. 
Hall 14, Geophysics. 
Hall 15, Social Structure. 
Hall 16, Inorganic Chemistry. 
Adjournment at 1 P. M. 




Meeting at 3 P. M. 
Philosophy of Religion. 
Classical Literature. 
Semitic Languages. 
The Rural Community. 
Medieval History. 

8, Oceanography. 

9, Astrophysics. 
Hall 10, Insurance. 

Hall 11, History of Roman Law. 
Hall 13, Preventive Medicine. 
Hall 14, Geology. 
Hall 16, Organic Chemistry. 
Adjournment at 6 P. M. 



















Immediately following the Section of Geophysics in the morning, 
and the Section of Geology in the afternoon, in Room 14, the Eighth 
International Geographic Congress will hold sessions in the same 
room, Hall 14, Mines and Metallurgy Building. 



Meeting at 10 A. M. 
Hall 1, English Literature. 
Hall 2, Plant Morphology. 
Hall 3, Modern History of Eu- 

Hall 4, Old Testament. 
Hall 5, The Urban Community. 
Hall 6, Logic. 
Hall 7, Psychiatry. 
Hall 8, Indo-Iranian Languages. 
Hall 9, Algebra and Analysis. 
Hall 10, Cosmical Physics. 
Hall 11, Palaeontology. 
Hall 12, Classical Art. 
Hall 13, Pathology. 
Hall 14, International Law. 
Hall 15, Economic Theory. 
Hall 16, Physical Chemistry. 
Adjournment at 1 P. M. 

Meeting at 3 P. M. 

Hall 1, Professional Religious 

Hall 2, Human Anatomy. 

Hall 3, Greek Language. 

Hall 4, Plant Physiology. 

Hall 5, Physics of the Electron. 

Hall 6, Methodology of Science. 

Hall 7, Modern Architecture. 

Hall 8, Romance Literature. 

Hall 9, Petrology and Mineral- 
Hall 10, Electrical Engineering. 

Hall 11, Geography. 
Hall 12, The Library. 
Hall 13, Neurology. 
Hall 14, The Industrial Group. 
Hall 15, Political Theory and Na- 
tional Administration. 
Hall 16, Physiological Chemistry. 
Adjournment at 6 p. M. 


Meeting at 10 A. M. 
Hall 1, New Testament. 
Hall 2, Experimental Psycho- 

Hall 3, Germanic Literature. 
Hall 4, Physiology. 
Hall 5, The Dependent Group. 
Hall 6, Ethics. 
Hall 7, Plant Pathology. 
Hall 8, Brahmanism and Buddh- 

Hall 9, Latin Language. 
Hall 10, Transportation. 
Hall 11, Physics of Matter. 
Hall 12, The School. 
Hall 13, Surgery. 
Hall 15, Social Psychology. 
Hall 16, Technical Chemistry. 
Adjournment at 1 p. M. 

Meeting at 3 P. M. 
Hall 1, Diplomacy. 
Hall 2, History of Economic In- 

Hall 3, English Language. 
Hall 4, ^Esthetics. 
Hall 5, The Criminal Group. 
HaU 6, General Psychology. 
Hall 7, Ecology. 
Hall 8, Mohammedism. 
Hall 9, Embryology. 
Hall 10, Mechanical Engineering. 
Hall 11, Physics of Ether. 
Hall 12, The College. 
Hall 13, Internal Medicine. 
Hall 14, Private Law. 
Hall 15, Religious Agencies. 
Hall 16, Somatology. 

Adjournment at 6 P. M. 




Meeting at 10 A. M. 

Hall 1, History of America. 

Hall 2, History of the Christian 

Hall 3, Belles-Lettres. 

Hall 4, Colonial Administration. 

Hall 5, Romance Languages. 

Hall 6, Comparative and Gene- 
tic Psychology. 

Hall 7, Ophthalmology. 

Hall 8, History of Asia. 

Hall 9, Geometry. 

Hall 10, Commerce and Exchange. 

Hall 11, Mining Engineering. 

HaU 12, The University. 

Hall 13, Gynecology. 

Hall 14, Constitutional Law. 

Hall 15, Bacteriology. 

Hall 16, Archeology. 

Adjournment at 1 P. M. 

Meeting at 3 P. M. 
Hall 1, Religious Work. 
Hall 2, Comparative Anatomy. 
Hall 3, Germanic Languages. 
Hall 4, Modern Painting. 
Hall 5, Money and Credit. 
Hall 6, Abnormal Psychology. 
Hall 7, Applied Mathematics. 
Hall 8, Indo-Iranian Literature. 
Hall 10, Agriculture. 

Hall 11, 

Hall 12, Educational Theory. 
Hall 13, Therapeutics and Phar- 


Hall 14, Comparative Law. 
Hall 15, Municipal Administra- 
Hall 16, Ethnology. 

Adjournment at 6 P. M. 


Festival Hall. 

Meeting at 10 A. M. Meeting at 3 P. M. 

Religious Influence: Personal. Religious Influence: Social. 


MONDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 19. --Grand Fete night in honor 
of the Congress of Arts and Science. Special illuminations about the 
Grand Basin. Lagoon fete. 

Banquet by the St. Louis Chemical Society, at the Southern Hotel, 
to the members of the Chemical Sections. 

TUESDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 20. - - General Reception by 
Board of Lady Managers to the officers and speakers of the Congress 
and officials of the Exposition. 

given to the members of the Congress of Arts and Science, at the 
French Pavilion, by the Commissioner-General from France. 

WEDNESDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 21. - - General reception by the 
German Imperial Commissioner-General to the members of the Con- 
gress of Arts and Science, at the German State House. 

THURSDAY EVENING. -- Shaw banquet at the Buckingham Club to 
the foreign delegates. 

FRIDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 23. - - General banquet to the 
speakers and officials of the Congress of Arts and Science in the 
banquet-hall of the Tyrolean Alps. 8 p. M. 

SATURDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 24. - - Banquet at St. Louis Club 
by Round Table of St. Louis, to the foreign members of the Congress. 

Banquet given by Imperial Commissioner-General from Japan to 
the Japanese delegation to the Congress and Exposition officials. 

Dinner given by Commissioner-General from Great Britain to the 
English members of the Congress. 


The following list differs from the original programme, in that it 
contains the names only of those who actually read addresses. It 
was planned that each Section should meet for three hours. When 
authors of ten-minute papers were not present, and where not enough 
of these shorter papers were offered to fill out the time, the Chairmen 
invited discussions from the floor until the time was filled. 

Professor R. G. Aitken 
James W. Alexander, Esq. 
Frederick Almy 
Professor S. G. Ashmore 
Professor L. A. Bauer 
Dr. Marcus Benjamin 
Professor H. T. Blickfeldt 
Professor Ernest W. Brown 
Dr. Henry Dickson Bruns 

Dr. F. K. Cameron 

Rear- Admiral C. M. Chester, 

U. S. N. 

H. H. Clayton, Esq. 
Professor Charles A. Coffin 
Dr. George Coronilas 
Professor J. E. Den ton 

Professor L. W. Dowling 
Professor H. C. Elmer 
Professor A. Emch 
Professor H. R. Fanclough 
Professor W. S. Ferguson 

Dr. Carlos Finley 
Dr. C. E. Fisk 
Homer Folks, Esq. 
Professor F. C. French 
H. L. Gannt, Esq. 

Dr. F. P. Gorham 
Professor Evarts B. Greene 
Stansbury Hagar, Esq. 
J. D. Hague, Esq. 

Lick Observatory 
New York City 
Buffalo, N. Y. 
Union College 
Carnegie Institute 
National Museum 
Leland Stanford Univ. 
Haverford College 
New Orleans 

Dep't of Agriculture 
United States Naval 

Blue Hill Observatory 
New York City 
Athens, Greece 
Stevens Institute 

Univ. of Wisconsin 
Cornell Univ. 
Univ. of Colorado 
Leland Stanford Univ. 
Univ. of California 

Centralia, 111. 
New York City 
Univ. of Nebraska 
Schenectady, N. Y. 

Brown Univ. 
Univ. of Illinois 
Brooklyn, N. Y. 
New York City 

Social Science 
Latin Language 
Cosmical Physios 
Technical Chemistry 
Lunar Theory 
Municipal Administra- 

Physical Chemistry 

Cosmical Physics 

Modern Painting 


Mechanical Engineer- 


Latin Language 


Classical Literature 

History of Greece, 
Rome, and Asia 


History of America 

Social Science 

Philosophy of Religion 

Mechanical Engineer- 


History of America 


Mining Engineering 


Professor G. B. Halstead 
Professor A. D. F. Hamlin 
Professor H. Hancock 
Professor J. A. Harris 
Professor M. W. Haskell 
Professor J. T. Hatfield 
Professor E. C. Hayes 
Professor W. E. Heidel 
Dr. C. L. Herrick 
Dr. C. Judson Herrick 
Professor W. H. Hobbs 

Professor A. R. Hohlfeld 
Professor H. H. Home 
Dr. E. V. Huntington 
Dr. Reid Hunt 
Dr. J. N. Hurty 
Professor J. J. Hutchinson 
Rev. Thomas E. Judge 

Professor L. Kahlenburg 
Professor Albert G. Keller 

Professor George Lefevre 
President Henry C. King 
Dr. Ira Landrith 
Professor M. D. Learned 
Professor A. O. Leuschner 
Dr. E. P. Lyon 
Dr. Duncan B. Macdonald 

Professor A. MacFarlane 
Professor James McMahon 
Mr. Edward Mallinckrodt 
Professor H. P. Manning 
Professor G. A. Miller 
Dr. W. C. Mills 
Professor W. S. Milner 
Professor F. G. Moore 
Dr. W. P. Montague 
Clarence B. Moore, Esq. 
Professor F. R. Moulton 
Dr. J. G. Needham 
Professor Alex. T. Ormond 
Professor Frederic L. Paxton 
Dr. Carl Piaster 

Professor M. B. Porter 
Dr. A. J. Reynolds 
Professor S. P. Sadtler 

Dr. John A. Sampson 
Oswald Schreiner, Esq. 

Kenyon College 
Columbia Univ. 
Univ. of Cincinnati 
St. Louis, Mo. 
Univ. of California 
Northwestern Univ. 
Miami Univ. 
Iowa College 
Granville, Ohio 
Granville, Ohio 
Univ. of Wisconsin 

Univ. of Wisconsin 
Dartmouth College 
Harvard Univ. 
U. S. Marine Hospital 
Indianapolis, Ind. 
Cornell Univ. 
Catholic Review of Re- 

Univ. of Wisconsin 
Yale University 

Univ. of Missouri 

Oberlin College 

Belmont College 

Univ. of Pennsylvania 

Univ. of California 

St. Louis Univ. 

Hartford Theological 

Chatham, Ontario 

Cornell Univ. 

St. Louis, Mo. 

Brown Univ. 

Leland Stanford Univ. 

Ohio State Univ. 

Univ. of Toronto 

Dartmouth College 

Columbia Univ. 


Univ. of Chicago 

Lake Forest Univ. 

Princeton Univ. 

Univ. of Colorado 

St. Mark's Hospital, 
New York City 

Univ. of Texas 


Philadelphia College of 

Albany, N. Y. 

U. S. Dep't of Agricul- 

Plant Morphology 
Algebra and Analysis 
Germanic Language 
Social Psychology 
Greek Language 
Animal Morphology 
Petrology and Mineral- 

Germanic Literature 
Educational Theory 
Algebra and Analyses 
Alcohol, etc. 
Public Health 
Algebra and Analysis 
General Religious Edu- 

Physical Chemistry 
Municipal Administra- 

Comparative Anatomy 
Education, The College 
Religious Agencies 
Germanic Literature 
Semitic Languages 

Applied Mathematics 

Applied Mathematics 



Algebra and Analysis. 


Classical Literature 

Classical Literature 




Animal Morphology 

Philosophy of Religion 

History of America 


Algebra and Analysis 

Public Health 

Technical Chemistry 



Rev. Frank Sewall 
Professor H. C. Sheldon 

Professor Frank C. Sharp 
Professor J. B. Shaw 
Professor W. B. Smith 
Professor Marshall S. Snow 
Professor Henry Snyder 
Professor Edwain D. Starbuck 

Professor George B. Stewart 

John M. Stahl 
Professor J. Stieglitz 
Professor Robert Stein 
Mr. Teitaro Suzuki 

Col. T. W. Symonds, U. S. A. 
Professor Teissier 
Judge W. H. Thomas 
Professor O. H. Tittmann 
Professor Alfred M. Tozzer 
Dr. Benjamin F. Trueblood 
Professor Clyde W. Votaw 
Professor John B. Watson 
Professor H. L. WiUett 

President Mary E. Woolley 
H. Zwaarddemaker 

Washington, D. C. 
Boston Univ. 

Univ. of Wisconsin 
Milliken Univ. 
Tulane Univ. 
Washington Univ. 
Univ. of Minnesota 
Earlham College 

Auburn Theological 

Quincy, 111. 
Univ. of Chicago 
U. S. Geological Survey 
La Salle, 111. 

Washington, D. C. 
Lyons, France 
Montgomery, Ala. 
U. S. C. and G. Survey 
Peabody Museum 
Univ. of Missouri 
Univ. of Chicago 
Univ. of Chicago 
Disciples Divinity 

House, Chicago 
Mt. Holyoke College 


Social Science, The 

History of the Chris- 
tian Church 


Algebra and Analysis 

New Testament 

History of America 

Social Science 

General Religious Edu- 

Professional Religious 

The Rural Community 


Comparative Language 

Brahmanism and 

Civil Engineering 


Private Law 



Medieval History 

New Testament 


Professional Religious 

Education, The Col- 

Otology and Laryngo- 




1. The Centralization of the Congress 

THE history of the Congress has been told. It remains to set forth the 
principles which controlled the work of the Congress week, and thus 
scientifically to introduce the scholarly undertaking, the results of 
which are to speak for themselves in the eight volumes of this pub- 
lication. Yet in a certain way this scientific introduction has once 
more to use the language of history. It does not deal with the ex- 
ternal development of the Congress, and the story which it has to tell 
is thus not one of dates and names and events. But the principles 
which shaped the whole undertaking have themselves a claim to his- 
torical treatment; they do not lie before us simply as the subject for a 
logical disputation or as a plea for a future work. That was the situa- 
tion of three years ago. At that time various ideas and opposing 
principles entered into the arena of discussion; but now, since the 
work is completed, the question can be only of what principles, right 
or wrong, have really determined the programme. We have thus to 
interpret that state of mind out of which the purposes and the scientific 
arrangement of the Congress resulted ; and no after-thought of to-day^ 
would be a desirable addition. Whatever possible improvements of 
the plan may suggest themselves in the retrospect can be given only 
a closing word. It was certainly easy to learn from experience, but 
first the experience had to be passed through. We have here to inter- 
pret the view from that standpoint from which the experience of the 
Congress was still a matter of the future, and of an uncertain future 
indeed, full of doubts and fears, and yet full of hopes and possibilities. 
The St. Louis World's Fair promised, through the vast extent of 
its grounds, through the beautiful plans of the buildings, through the 
eagerness of the United States, through the participation of all coun- 
tries on earth, and through the gigantic outlines of the internal plans, 
to become the most monumental expression of the energies with 
which the twentieth century entered on its course. Commerce and 
industry, art and social work, politics and education, war and peace, 


country and city, Orient and Occident, were all to be focussed for 
a few summer months in the ivory city of the Mississippi Valley. It 
seemed most natural that science and productive scholarship should 
also find its characteristic place among the factors of our modern 
civilization. Of course the scientist had his word to say on almost every 
square foot of the Exposition. Whether the building was devoted to 
electricity or to chemistry, to anthropology or to metallurgy, to civic 
administration or to medicine, to transportation or to industrial arts, 
it was everywhere the work of the scientist which was to win the tri- 
umph; and the Palace of Education, the first in any universal exposi- 
tion, was to combine under its roof not only the school work of all 
countries, but the visible record of the world's universities and tech- 
nical schools as well. And yet it seemed not enough to gather the 
products and records of science and to make science serve with its 
tools and inventions. Modern art, too, was to reign over every hall 
and to beautify every palace, and yet demanded its own unfolding in 
the gallery of paintings and sculptures. In the same way it was not 
enough for science to penetrate a hundred exhibitions and turn the 
wheels in every hall, but it must also seek to concentrate all its ener- 
gies in one spot and show the cross-section of human knowledge in 
our time, and, above all, its own methods. 

An exhibition of scholarship cannot be arranged for the eyes. The 
great work which grows day by day in quiet libraries and laboratories, 
and on a thousand university platforms, can express itself only 
through words. Yet heaped up printed volumes would be dead to 
a World's Fair spectator; how to make such words living was the 
problem. Above all, scholarship does not really exhibit its methods, 
if it does not show itself in production. It is no longer scholarship 
which speaks of a truth-seeking that has been performed instead of 
going on with the search for further truth. If the world's science was 
to be exhibited, a form had to be sought in which the scholarly 
work on the spot would serve the ideals of knowledge, would add to 
the storehouse of truth, and would thus work in the service of human 
progress at the same moment in which it contributed to the com- 
pleteness of the exhibition. 

The effort was not without precedent. Scholarly production had 
been connected with earlier expositions, and the large gatherings of 
scholars at the Paris Exposition were still in vivid memory. A large 
number of scientific congresses of specialists had been held there, and 
many hundred scholarly papers had been read. Yet the results hardly 
suggested the repetition of such an experiment. Every one felt too 
strongly that the outcome of such disconnected congresses of special- 
ists is hardly comparable with the glorious showing which the arts 
and industries have made and were to make again. In every other 
department of the World's Fair the most careful preparation secured 


an harmonious effect. The scholarly meetings alone failed even to aim 
at harmony and unity. Not only did the congresses themselves stand 
apart without any inner relation, grouped together by calendar dates 
or by their alphabetical order from Anthropology to Zoology; but 
in every congress, again, the papers read and the manuscripts pre- 
sented were disconnected pieces without any programme or correla- 
tion. Worse than that, they could not even be expected in their isolat- 
edness to add anything which would not have been worked out and 
communicated to the world just as well without any congress. The 
speaker at such a meeting is asked to contribute anything he has at 
hand, and he accepts the invitation because he has by chance a com- 
pleted paper or a research ready for publication. In the best case it 
would have appeared in the next number of the specialistic magazine, 
in not unfrequent cases it has appeared already in the last number. 
Such a congress is then only an accident and does not itself serve the 
progress of knowledge. 

Even that would be acceptable if at least the best scholars would 
come out with their latest investigations, or, still more delightful, if 
they would enter into an important discussion. But experience has 
too often shown that the conditions are most favorable for the oppo- 
site outcome. The leading scholars stay away partly to give beginners 
the chance to be heard, partly not to be grouped with those who 
habitually have the floor at such gatherings. These are either the men 
whose day has gone by or those whose day has not yet come; and 
both groups tyrannize alike an unwilling audience. Yet it may be said 
that in scientific meetings of specialists the reading of papers is non- 
essential and no harm is done even if they do not contribute anything 
to the status of scholarship; their great value lies in the personal con- 
tact of fellow workers and in the discussions and informal exchange of 
opinions. All that is true, and completely justifies the yearly meetings 
of scholarly associations. But these advantages are much diminished 
whenever such gatherings take on an international character, and 
thus introduce the confusion of tongues. And hardly any one can 
doubt that the turmoil of a world's fair is about the worst possible 
background for such exchange of thought, which demands repose and 
quietude. Yet even with the certainty of all these disadvantages the 
city of Paris, with its large body of scholars, with its venerable schol- 
arly traditions, and with its incomparable attractions, could overcome 
every resistance, and its convenient location made it natural that in 
vacation time, in an exposition summer, the scholars should gather 
there, not on account of, but in spite of, the hundred congresses. 
With this the city of St. Louis could make no claim to rivalry. Its 
recent growth, its minimum of scholarly tradition, its great distance 
from the did centres of knowledge even in the New World, the apathy 
of the East and the climatic fears of Europe, all together made it clear 


that a mere repetition of unrelated congresses would foe not only 
useless, but a disastrous failure. These very fears, however, them- 
selves suggested the remedy. 

If the scholarly work of our time was to be represented at St. Louis, 
something had to be attempted which should be not simply an imita- 
tion of the branch-congresses which every scientific specialty in every 
country is calling every year. Scholarship was to be asked to show 
itself really in process, and to produce for the World's Fair meeting 
something which without it would remain undone. To invite the 
scholars of the world for their leisurely enjoyment and reposeful dis- 
cussion of work done elsewhere is one thing; to call them together 
for work which they would not do otherwise, and which ought to be 
done, is a very different thing. The first had in St. Louis all odds 
against it; it seemed worth while to try the second. And it seemed 
not only worth while in the interest of scholarship, it seemed, above 
all, the only way to give to the scholarship of our time a chance for 
the complete demonstration of its productive energies. 

The plan of unrelated congresses, with chance combinations of 
papers prepared at random, was therefore definitively replaced by the 
plan of only one representative gathering, bound together by one 
underlying thought, given thus the unity of one scholarly aim, whose 
fulfillment is demanded by the scientific needs of our time, and is 
hardly to be reached by other methods. Every arbitrary and indi- 
vidual choice was then to be eliminated and every effort was to be 
controlled by the one central purpose; the work thus to be organized 
and prepared with the same carefulness of adjustment and elabora- 
tion which was doubtless to be applied in the admirable exhibitions 
of the United States Government or in the art exhibition. The open 
question was, of course, what topic could fulfill these various demands 
most completely; wherein lay the greatest scholarly need of our time; 
what task could be least realized by the casual efforts of scholarship 
at random; where was the unity of a world organization most needed? 

One thought was very naturally suggested by the external circum- 
stances. St. Louis had asked the nations of the world to a celebration 
of the Louisiana Purchase. Historical thoughts thus gave meaning 
and importance to the whole undertaking. The pride of one century's 
development had stimulated the gigantic work from its inception. An 
immense territory had been transformed from a half wilderness into 
a land with a rich civilization, and with a central city in which eight 
thousand factories are at work. No thought lay nearer than to ask 
how far this century was of similar importance for the changes in the 
world of thought. How have the sciences developed themselves since 
the days of the Louisiana Purchase? That is a topic which with com- 
plete uniformity might be asked from every special science, and which 
might thus offer a certain unity of aim to scholars of all scientific de- 


nominations. There was indeed no doubt that such an historical ques- 
tion would have to be raised if we were to live up to the commemora- 
tive idea of the whole Fair. And yet it seemed still more certain that 
the retrospective problem did not justify itself as a central topic for a 
World's Congress. There were sciences for which the story of the last 
hundred years was merely the last chapter of a history of three thou- 
sand years and other sciences whose life history did not begin until 
one or two decades ago. It would thus be a very external uniformity; 
the question would have a very different meaning for the various 
branches of knowledge, and the treatment would be of very unequal 
interest and importance. More than that, it would not abolish the 
unrelated character of the endeavors; while the same topic might 
be given everywhere, yet every science would remain isolated; there 
would be no internal unity, and thus no inner reason for bringing 
together the best workers of all spheres. And finally the mere retro- 
spective attitude brings with it the depressing mood of perfunctory 
activity. Certainly to look back on the advance of a century can be 
most suggestive for a better understanding of the way which lies 
before us; and we felt indeed that the occasion for such a back- 
ward glance ought not to be missed. Yet there would be something 
lifeless if the whole meeting were devoted to the consideration of work 
that had been completed; a kind of necrological sentiment would 
pervade the whole ceremony, while our chief aim was to serve the 
progress of knowledge and thus to stimulate living interests. 

This language of life spoke indeed in the programme of another 
plan which seemed also to be suggested by the character of the 
Exposition. The St. Louis Fair desired not merely to look backward 
and to revive the historical interest in the Louisiana Purchase, 
but its first aim seemed to be to bring into sharp relief the factors 
which serve to-day the practical welfare and the achievements of 
human society. If all the scholars of all sciences were to convene 
under one flag, would it not thus seem most harmonious with the 
occasion, if, as the one controlling topic, the question were proposed, 
" What does your science contribute to the practical progress of man- 
kind? ' No one can deny that such a formulation would fit in well 
with the lingering thoughts of every World's Fair visitor. Whoever 
wanders through the aisles of exhibition palaces and sees amassed the 
marvelous achievements of industry and commerce, and the thousand 
practical arts of modern society, may indeed turn most naturally to 
a gathering of scholars with the question, " What have you to offer 
of similar import?" All your thinking and speaking and writing, are 
they merely words on words, or do you also turn the wheels of this 
gigantic civilization? 

Such a question would give a noble opening indeed to almost every 
science. Who would say that the opportunity is confined to the man of 


technical science? Does not the biologist also prepare the achievements 
of modern medicine, does not the mathematician play his most impor- 
tant role in our mastery over stubborn nature, do we not need lan- 
guage for our social intercourse, and law and religion for our practical 
social improvement? Yes, is there any science which has not directly 
or indirectly something to contribute to the practical development of 
the modern man and his civilization? All this is true, and yet the 
perspective of this truth, too, appears at once utterly distorted if we 
take the standpoint of science itself. The one end of knowledge is to 
reach the truth. The belief in the absolute value of truth gives to it 
meaning and significance. This value remains the controlling influ- 
ence even where the problem to be solved is itself a practical one, and 
the spirit of science remains thus essentially theoretical even in the 
so-called applied sciences. But incomparably more intense in that 
respect is the spirit of all theoretical disciplines. Philosophy and 
mathematics, history and philology, chemistry and biology, astro- 
nomy and geology, may be and ought to be helpful to practical 
civilization everywhere; and every step forward which they take 
will be an advance for man's practical life too. And yet their real 
meaning never lies in their technical by-product. It is not the 
scholar who peers in the direction of practical use who is most loyal 
to the deepest demand of scholarship, and every relation to prac- 
tical achievement is more or less accidental or even artificial for 
the real life interests of productive scholarship. 

But if the contrast between his real intention and his social tech- 
nical successes may not appear striking to the physicist or chemist, 
it would appear at least embarrassing to the scholars in many other 
departments and directly bewildering to not a few. Perhaps two 
thirds of the sciences to which the best thinkers of our time are faith- 
fully devoted would then be grouped together and relegated to a 
distant corner, their only practical technical function would be to 
contribute material to the education of the cultured man. For what 
else do we study Sanscrit or medieval history or epistemology.? And 
finally even the uniform topic of practical use would not have 
brought the different sciences nearer to each other; the Congress 
would still have remained a budget of disconnected records of scholar- 
ship. If the practical side of the Exposition was to suggest anything, 
it should then not be more than an appeal not to overlook the impor- 
tance of the applied sciences which too often play the role of a mere 
appendix to the system of knowledge. The logical one-sidedness 
which considers practical needs as below the dignity of pure science 
was indeed to be excluded, but to choose practical service as the one 
controlling topic would be far more anti-scientific. 


2. The Unity of Knowledge 

There was another side of the Exposition plan which suggested a 
stronger topic. The World's Fair was not only an historical memorial 
work, and was not only a show of the practical tools of technical civil- 
ization; its deepest aim was after all the effort to bring the energies of 
our time into inner relation. The peoples of the whole globe, sepa- 
rated by oceans and mountains, by language and custom, by politics 
and prejudice, were here to come in contact and to be brought into 
correlation by better mutual understanding of the best features of 
their respective cultures. The various industries and arts, the most 
antagonistic efforts of commerce and production, separated by the 
rivalry of the market and by the diversity of economic interests 
were here to be brought together in harmony, were to be correlated 
for the eye of the spectator. It was a near-lying thought to choose 
correlation as the controlling thought of a scientific World's Congress 
too. That was the topic which was finally agreed upon: the inner 
relation of the sciences of our day. 

The fitness and the external advantages of such a scheme are 
evident. First of all, the danger of disconnectedness now disappears 
completely. If the sciences are to examine what binds them together, 
their usual isolation must be given up for the time being and a con- 
certed effort must control the day. The bringing together of scholars 
of all scientific specialties is then no longer a doubtful accidental fea- 
ture, but becomes a condition of the whole undertaking. More than 
that, such a topic, with all that it involves, makes it a matter of course 
that the call goes out to the really leading scholars of the time. To 
aim at a correlation of sciences means to seek for the fundamental 
principles in each territory of knowledge and to look with far-seeing 
eye beyond the limits of its field; but just this excludes from the 
outset those who like to be the self-appointed speakers in routine 
gatherings. It excludes from the first the narrow specialist who does 
not care for anything but for his latest research, and ought to exclude 
not less the vague spirits who generalize about facts of which they 
have no concrete substantial knowledge, as their suggestions towards 
correlation would lack inner productiveness and outer authority. 
Such a plan has room only for those men who stand high enough to 
see the whole field and who have yet the full authority of the special- 
istic investigator; they must combine the concentration on specialized 
productive work with the inspiration that comes from looking over 
vast regions. With such a topic the usual question does not come up 
whether one or another strong man would feel attracted to take part 
in the gathering, but it would be justified and necessary to confine the 
active participation from the outset to those who are leaders, and 
thus to guarantee from the beginning a representation of science 


equal in dignity to the best efforts of the exhibiting countries in all 
other departments. In this way such a plan had the advantage of 
justifying through its topic the administrative desire to bring all 
sciences to the same spot, and at the same time of excluding all par- 
ticipants but the best scholars: with isolated gatherings or with 
second-rate men, this subject would have been simply impossible. 

Yet all these halfway external advantages count little compared 
with the significance and importance of the topic for the inner life of 
scientific thought of our time. We all felt it was the one topic which 
the beginning of the twentieth century demanded and which could 
not be dealt with otherwise than by the combined labors of all nations 
and of all sciences. The World's Fair was the one great opportunity 
to make a first effort in this direction; we had no right to miss this 
opportunity. Thus it was decided to have a congress with the definite 
purpose of working towards the unity of human knowledge, and with 
the one mission, in this time of scattered specializing work, of bringing 
to the consciousness of the world the too-much neglected idea of the 
unity of truth. To quote from our first tentative programme: " Let 
the rush of the world's work stop for one moment for us to consider 
what are the underlying principles, what are their relations to one 
another and to the whole, what are their values and purposes; in 
short, let us for once give to the world's sciences a holiday. The work- 
aday functions are much better fulfilled in separation, when each 
scholar works in his own laboratory or in his library; but this holiday 
task of bringing out the underlying unity, this synthetic work, this 
demands really the cooperation of all, this demands that once at least 
all sciences come together in one place at one time." 

Yet if our work stands for the unity of knowledge, aims to consider 
the fundamental conceptions which bind together all the specialistic 
results, and seeks to inquire into the methods which are common to 
various fields, all this is after all merely a symptom of the whole spirit 
of our times. A reaction against the narrowness of mere fact-diggers 
has set in. A mere heaping up of disconnected, unshaped facts begins 
to disappoint the world; it is felt too vividly that a mere dictionary of 
phenomena, of events and laws, makes our knowledge larger but not 
deeper, makes our life more complex but not more valuable, makes 
our science more difficult but not more harmonious. Our time longs 
for a new synthesis and looks towards science no longer merely with 
a desire for technical prescriptions and new inventions in the interest 
of comfort and exchange. It waits for knowledge to fulfill its higher 
mission, it waits for science to satisfy our higher needs for a view 
of the world which shall give unity to our scattered experience. The 
indications of this change are visible to every one who observes the 
gradual turning to philosophical discussion in the most different 
fields of scientific life. 


When after the first third of the nineteenth century the great 
philosophic movement which found its climax in Hegelianism came 
to disaster in consequence of its absurd neglect of hard solid facts, the 
era of naturalism began its triumph with contempt for all philosophy 
and for all deeper unity. Idealism and philosophy were stigmatized as 
the enemies of true science and natural science had its great day. The 
rapid progress of physics and chemistry fascinated the world and pro- 
duced modern technique; the sciences of life, physiology, biology, 
medicine, followed; and the scientific method was carried over from 
body to mind, and gave us at the end of the nineteenth century mod- 
ern psychology and sociology. The lifeless and the living, the physical 
and the mental, the individual and the social, all had been conquered 
by analytical methods. But just when the climax was reached and all 
had been analyzed and explained, the time was ripe for disillusion, 
and the lack of deeper unity began to be felt with alarm in every 
quarter. For seventy years there had been nowhere so much philo- 
sophizing going on as suddenly sprung up among the scientists of 
the last decade. The physicists and the mathematicians, the chemists 
and the biologists, the geologists and the astronomers, and, on the 
other side, the historians and the economists, the psychologists and 
the sociologists, the jurists and the theologians all suddenly found 
themselves again in the midst of discussions on fundamental princi- 
ples and methods, on general categories and conditions of knowledge, 
in short, in the midst of the despised philosophy. And with those 
discussions has come the demand for correlation. Everywhere have 
arisen leaders who have brought unconnected sciences together and 
emphasized the unity of large divisions. The time seems to have come 
again when the wave of naturalism and realism is ebbing, and a new 
idealistic philosophical tide is swelling, just as they have always alter- 
nated in the civilization of two thousand years. 

No one dreams, of course, that the great synthetic apperception, for 
which our modern time seems ripe, will come through the delivery of 
some hundred addresses, or the discussions of some hundred audiences. 
An ultimate unity demands the gigantic thought of a single genius, 
and the work of the many can, after all, be merely the preparation 
for the final work of the one. And yet history shows that the one will 
never come if the many have not done their share. What is needed 
is to fill the sciences of our time with the growing consciousness of 
belonging together, with the longing for fundamental principles, with 
the conviction that the desire for correlation is not the fancy of 
dreamers, but the immediate need of the leaders of thought. And in 
this preparatory work the St. Louis Congress of Arts and Science 
seemed indeed called for an important part when it was committed 
to this topic of correlation. 

To call the scholars of the world together for concerted action 


towards the correlation of knowledge meant, of course, first of all, to 
work out a detailed programme, and to select the best authorities 
for every special part of the whole scheme. Nothing could be left to 
chance methods and to casual contributions. The preparation needed 
the same administrative strictness which would be demanded for an 
encyclopedia, and the same scholarly thoroughness which would be 
demanded for the most scientific research. A plan was to be devised 
in which every possible striving for truth would find its place, and 
in which every section would have its definite position in the system. 
And such a ground-plan given, topics were to be assigned to every 
department and sub-department, the treatment of which would bring 
out the fundamental principles and the inner relations in such a way 
that the papers would finally form a close-woven intellectual fabric. 
There would be plenty of room for a retrospective glance at the his- 
torical development of the sciences and plenty of room for emphasis 
on their practical achievements; but the central place would always 
belong to the effort towards unity and internal harmonization. 

We thus divided human knowledge into large parts, and the parts 
into divisions, and the divisions into departments, and the depart- 
ments into sections. As the topic of the general divisions we pro- 
posed seven of them - - it was decided to discuss the Unity of the 
whole field. As topic for the departments - - we had twenty-four of 
them - - the addresses were to discuss the fundamental Conceptions 
and Methods and the Progress during the last century; and in the 
sections, finally - - our plan provided for one hundred and twenty- 
eight of them the topics were in every one the Relation of the 
special branch to other branches, and those most important Present 
Problems which are essential for the deeper principles of the special 
field. In this way the ground-plan itself suggested the unity of the 
practically separated sciences; and, moreover, our plan provided 
from the first that this logical relation should express itself externally 
in the time order of the work. We were to begin with the meetings of 
the large divisions, the meetings of the departments were to follow, 
and the meetings of the sections and their ramifications would follow 
the departmental gatherings. 

3. The Objections to the Plan 

It was evident that even the most modest success of that gigantic 
undertaking depended upon the right choice of speakers, upon the 
value of the ground-plan, and upon many external conditions; thus 
no one was in doubt as to the difficulty in realizing such a scheme. 
Yet there were from the scholarly side itself objections to the prin- 
ciples involved, objections which might hold even if those other 
conditions were successfully met. The most immediate reason for 


reluctance lies in the specializing tendencies of our time. Those 
who devote all their working energy as loyal sons of our analyzing 
period of science to the minute detail of research come easily into the 
habit of a nervous fear with regard to any wider general outlook. The 
man of research sees too often how ignorance hides itself behind gen- 
eralities. He knows too well how much easier it is to formulate vague 
generalities than to contribute a new fact to human knowledge, and 
how often untrained youngsters succeed with popular text-books 
which are rightly forgotten the next day. Methodical science must 
thus almost encourage this aversion to any deviation from the path 
of painstaking specialistic labor. Then, of course, it seems almost 
a scientific duty to declare war against an undertaking which ex- 
plicitly asks everywhere for the wide perspectives and the last prin- 
ciples, and does not aim at adding at this moment to the mere treasury 
of information. 

But such a view is utterly one-sided, and to fight against such one- 
sidedness and to overcome the specializing narrowness of the scat- 
tered sciences was the one central idea of the plan. If there existed 
no scholars who despise the philosophizing connection, there would 
have hardly been any need for this whole undertaking; but to yield 
to such philosophy-phobia means to declare the analytic movement 
of science permanent, and to postpone a synthetic movement in- 
definitely. Our time has just to emphasize, and the leaders of thought 
daily emphasize it more, that a mere heaping up of information can 
be merely a preparation for knowledge, and that the final aim is 
a Weltanschauung, a unified view of the whole of reality. All that 
our Congress had to secure was thus merely that the generalizing dis- 
cussion of principles should not be left to men who generalized be- 
cause they lacked the substantial knowledge which is necessary to 
specialize. The thinkers we needed were those who through special- 
istic work were themselves led to a point where the discussion of gen- 
eral principles becomes unavoidable. Our plan was by no means 
antagonistic to the patient labors of analysis; the aim was merely to 
overcome its one-sidedness and to stimulate the synthesis as a neces- 
sary supplement. 

But the objections against a generalizing plan were not confined to 
the mistaken fear that we sought to antagonize the productive work 
of the specialist. They not seldom took the form of a general aver- 
sion to the logical side of the ground-plan. It was often said that such 
a scheme has after all interest only for the logician, for whom science 
as such is an object of study, and who must thus indeed classify the 
sciences and determine their logical relation. The real scientist, it 
was said, does not care for such methodological operations, and should 
be suspicious from the first of such philosophical high-handedness. 
The scientist cannot forget how often in the history of civilization 


science was the loser when it trusted its problems to the metaphy- 
sical thinker who substituted his lofty speculations for the hard 
work of the investigator. The true scholar will thus not only object 
to generalizing " commonplaces" as against solid information, but he 
will object as well to logical demarcation lines and systematization 
as against the practical scientific work which does not want to be 
hampered by such philosophical subtleties. Yet all these fears and 
suspicions were still more mistaken. 

Nothing was further from our intentions than a substitution of 
metaphysics for concrete science. It was not by chance that we took 
such pains to find the best specialists for every section. No one was 
invited to enter into logical discussions and to consider the relations 
of science merely from a dialectic point of view. The topic was every- 
where the whole living manifoldness of actual relations, and the logi- 
cian had nothing else to do than to prepare the programme. The 
outlines of the programme demanded, of course, a certain logical 
scheme. If hundreds of sciences are to take part, they have to be 
grouped somehow, if a merely alphabetical order is not adopted; and 
even if we were to proceed alphabetically, we should have to decide 
beforehand what part of knowledge is to be recognized as a special 
science. But the logical order of the ground-plan refers, of course, 
merely to the simple relation of coordination, subordination, and 
superordination, and the logician is satisfied with such a classification. 
But the endless variety of internal relations is no longer to be dealt 
with from the point of view of mere logic. We may work out the 
ground-plan in such a way that we understand that logically zoology 
is coordinated to botany and subordinated to mechanics and super- 
ordinated to ichthyology; but this minimum of determination gives, 
of course, not even a hint of that world of relations which exists from 
the standpoint of the biologist between the science of zoology and 
the science of botany, or between the biological and the mechanical 
studies. To discuss these relations of real scientific life is the work of 
the biologist and not at all of the logician. 

The foregoing answers also at once an objection which might seem 
more justified at the first glance. It has been said that we were under- 
taking the work of bringing about a synthesis of scientific endeavors, 
and that we yet had that synthesis already completed in the pro- 
gramme on which the work was to be based. The scholars to be in- 
vited would be bound by the programme, and would therefore have 
no other possibility than to say with more words what the programme 
had settled beforehand. The whole effort would then seem determined 
from the start by the arbitrariness of the proposed ground-plan. 
Now it cannot be denied indeed that a certain factor of arbitrariness 
has to enter into a programme. We have already referred to the fact 
that some one must decide beforehand what fraction of science is to be 


acknowledged as a self-dependent discipline. If a biologist were to 
work out the scheme, he might decide that the whole of philosophy 
was just one science; while the philosopher might claim a large num- 
ber of sections for logic and ethics and philosophy of religion, and so 
on. And the philosopher, on the other hand, might treat the whole of 
medicine as one part in itself, while the physician might hold that even 
otology has to be separated from rhinology. A certain subjectivity of 
standpoint is unavoidable, and we know very well that instead of the 
one hundred and twenty-eight sections of our programme we might 
have been satisfied with half that number or might have indulged in 
double that number. And yet there was no possible plan which would 
have allowed us to invite the speakers without defining beforehand 
the sectional field which each was to represent. A certain courage of 
opinion was then necessary, and sometimes also a certain adjustment 
to external conditions. 

Quite similar was the question of classification. Just as we had to 
take the responsibility for the staking-out of every section, we had 
also to decide in favor of a certain grouping, if we desired to organ- 
ize the Congress and not simply to bring out haphazard results. The 
principles which are sufficient for a mere directory would never allow 
the shaping of a programme which can be the basis for synthetic work. 
Even a university catalogue begins with a certain classification, and 
yet no one fancies that such catalogue grouping inhibits the freedom 
of the university lecturer. It is easy to say, as has been said, that the 
essential trait of the scientific life of to-day is its live-and-let-live 
character. Certainly it is. In the regular work in our libraries and 
laboratories the year round, everything depends upon this demo- 
cratic freedom in which every one goes his own way, hardly asking 
what his neighbor is doing. It is that which has made the specialistic 
sciences of our day as strong as they are. But it has brought about at 
the same time this extreme tendency to unrelated specialization with 
its discouraging lack of unity; this heaping up of information without 
an outer harmonious view of the world; and if we were really at least 
once to satisfy the desire for unity, then we had not the right to yield 
fully to this live-and-let-live tendency. Therefore some principle of 
grouping had to be accepted, and whatever principle had been chosen, 
it would certainly have been open to the criticism that it was a pro- 
duct of arbitrary decision, inasmuch as other principles might have 
been possible. 

A classification which in itself expresses all the practical relations in 
which sciences stand to each other is, of course, absolutely impossible. 
A programme which should try to arrange the place of a special disci- 
pline in such a way that it would become the neighbor of all those other 
sciences with which it has internal relation is unthinkable. On the 
other hand, only if we had tried to construct a scheme of such exagger- 


ated ambitions should we have been really guilty of anticipating a 
part of that which the specialistic scholars were to tell us. The Con- 
gress had to leave it to the invited participants to discuss the totality 
of relations which practically exist between their fields and others, 
and the organizers confined themselves to that minimum of classifica- 
tion which just indicates the pure logical relations, a minimum which 
every editor of encyclopedic work would be asked to initiate without 
awakening suspicions of interference with the ideas of his contributors. 

The only justified demand which could be met was that a system 
of division and classification should be proposed which should give 
fair play to every existing scientific tendency. The minimum of classi- 
fication was to be combined with the maximum of freedom, and to 
secure that a careful consideration of principles was indeed necessary. 
To bring logical order into the sciences which stand out clearly with 
traditional rights is not difficult; but the chances are too great that 
certain tendencies of thought might fail to find recognition or might 
be suppressed by scientific prejudice. Any serious omission would 
indeed have necessarily inhibited the freedom of expression. To 
secure thus the greatest inner fullness of the programme, seemed in- 
deed the most important task in the elaboration of the ground-plan. 
The fears that we might offer empty generalization instead of schol- 
arly facts, or that we might simply heap up encyclopedic information 
instead of gaining wide perspectives, or that we might interfere with 
the living connections of sciences by the logical demarcation lines, or 
that we might disturb the scholar in his freedom by determining 
beforehand his place in the classification, all these fears and objec- 
tions, which were repeatedly raised when the plan was first proposed, 
seemed indeed unimportant compared with the fear that the pro- 
gramme might be unable to include all scientific tendencies of the 

That would have been, indeed, the one fundamental mistake, as the 
whole Congress work was planned in the service of the great synthetic 
movement which pervades the intellectual life of to-day. The under- 
taking would be useless and even hindering if it were not just the newer 
and deeper tendencies that came to most complete expression in it. 
Everything depended, therefore, upon the fullest possible representa- 
tion of scientific endeavors in the plan. But no one can become aware 
of this manifoldness and of the logical relations who does not go back to 
the ultimate principles of the human search for truth. We have, there- 
fore, to enter now into a full discussion of the principles which have 
controlled the classification and subdivision of the whole work. The 
discussion is necessarily in its essence a philosophical one, as it was 
earlier made plain that philosophy must lay out the plan, while in the 
realization of the plan through concrete work the scientist alone, and 
not the logician, has to speak. Yet here again it may be said that 


while our discussion of principles in its essence is logical, in another 
respect it is a merely historical account. The question is not what 
principles of classification are to be acknowledged as valuable now 
that the work of the Congress lies behind us, but what principles were 
accepted and really led to the organization of the work in that form in 
which it presents itself in the records of the following volumes. 



1. The Development of Classification 

The problem of dividing and subdividing the whole of human know- 
ledge and of thus bringing order into the manifoldness of scientific 
efforts has fascinated the leading thinkers of all ages. It may often be 
difficult to say how far the new principles of classification themselves 
open the way for new scientific progress and how far the great forward 
movements of thought in the special sciences have in turn influenced 
the principles of classification. In any case every productive age has 
demanded the expression of its deepest energy in a new ordering of 
human science. The history of these efforts leads from Plato and 
Aristotle to Bacon and Locke, to Bentham and Ampere, to Kant and 
Hegel, to Comte and Spencer, to Wundt and Windelband. And yet 
we can hardly speak of a real historical continuity. In a certain way 
every period took up the problem anew, and the new aspects resulted 
not only from the development of the sciences themselves which were 
to be classified, but still more from the differences of logical interest. 
Sometimes the classification referred to the material, sometimes to 
the method of treatment, sometimes to the mental energies involved, 
and sometimes to the ends to be reached. The reference to the mental 
faculties was certainly the earliest method of bringing order into 
human knowledge, for the distinction of the Platonic philosophy be- 
tween dialectics, physics, and ethics pointed to the threefold charac- 
ter of the mind, to reason, perception, and desire; and it was on the 
threshold of the modern time, again, when Bacon divided the intel- 
lectual globe into three large parts according to three fundamental 
psychical faculties : memory, imagination, and reason. The memory 
gives us history; the imagination, poetry; the reason, philosophy, 
or the sciences. History was further divided into natural and civil 
history; natural history into normal, abnormal, and artificial phe- 
nomena; civil history into political, literary, and ecclesiastical history. 
The field of reason was subdivided into man, nature, and God; the 
domain of man gives, first, civil philosophy, parted off into inter- 


course, business, and government, and secondly, the philosophy of 
humanity, divided into that of body and of soul, wherein medicine 
and athletics belong to the body, logic and ethics to the soul. Nature, 
on the other hand, was divided into speculative and applied science, 
- the speculative containing both physics and metaphysics; the 
applied, mechanics and magic. All this was full of artificial con- 
structions, and yet still more marked by deep insight into the needs 
of Bacon's time, and not every modification of later classifiers was 
logically a step forward. 

Yet modern efforts had to seek quite different methods, and the 
energies which have been most effective for the ordering of knowledge 
in the last decades spring unquestionably from the system of Comte 
and his successors. He did not aim at a system of ramifications; his 
problem was to show how the fundamental sciences depend on each 
other. A series was to be constructed in which each member should 
presuppose the foregoing. The result was a simplicity which is cer- 
tainly tempting, but this simplicity was reached only by an artificial 
emphasis which corresponded completely to the one-sidedness of 
naturalistic thought. It was a philosophy of positivism, the back- 
ground for the gigantic work of natural science and technique in the 
last two thirds of the nineteenth century. Comte 's fundamental 
thought is that the science of Morals, in which we study human nature 
for the government of human life, is dependent on sociology. Socio- 
logy, however, depends on biology; this on chemistry; this on 
physics; this on astronomy; and this finally on mathematics. In this 
way, all mental and moral sciences, history and philology, jurispru- 
dence and theology, economics and politics, are considered as socio- 
logical phenomena, as dealing with functions of the human being. 
But as man is a living organism, and thus certainly falls under 
biology, all the branches of knowledge from history to ethics, from 
jurisprudence to aesthetics, can be nothing but subdivisions of biology. 
The living organism, on the other hand, is merely one type of the 
physical bodies on earth, and biology is thus itself merely a depart- 
ment of physics. But as the earthly bodies are merely a part of the 
cosmic totality, physics is thus a part of astronomy; and as the whole 
universe is controlled by mathematical laws, mathematics must be 
superordinated to all sciences. 

But there folio wed a time which overcame this thinly disguised 
example of materialism. It was a time when the categories of the 
physiologist lost slightly in credit and the categories of the psycho- 
logist won repute. This newer movement held that it is artificial to 
consider ethical and logical life, historic and legal action, literary and 
religious emotions, merely as physiological functions of the living 
organism. The mental life, however necessarily connected with brain 
processes, has a positive reality of its own. The psychical facts repre- 


sent a world of phenomena which in its nature is absolutely different 
from that of material phenomena, and, while it is true that every 
ethical action and every logical thought can, from the standpoint of 
the biologist, be considered as a property of matter, it is not less true 
that the sciences of mental phenomena, considered impartially, form 
a sphere of knowledge closed in itself, and must thus be coordinated, 
not subordinated, to the knowledge of the physical world. We should 
say thus: all knowledge falls into two classes, the physical sciences 
and the mental sciences. In the circle of physical sciences we have the 
general sciences, like physics and chemistry, the particular sciences of 
special objects, like astronomy, geology, mineralogy, biology, and the 
formal sciences, like mathematics. In the circle of mental sciences we 
have correspondingly, as a general science, psychology, and as the 
particular sciences all those special mental and moral sciences which 
deal with man's inner life, like history or jurisprudence, logic or ethics, 
and all the rest. Such a classification, which had its philosophical 
defenders about twenty years ago, penetrated the popular thought 
as fully as the positivism of the foregoing generation, and was cer- 
tainly superior to its materialistic forerunner. 

Of course it was not the first time in the history of civilization that 
materialism was replaced by dualism, that biologism was replaced by 
psy chologism ; and it was also not the first time that the development 
of civilization led again beyond this point: that is, led beyond the 
psychologizing period. There is no doubt that our time presses 
on, with all its powerful internal energies, away from this Weltan- 
schauung of yesterday. The materialism was anti-philosophic, the 
psychological dualism was unphilosophic. To-day the philosophical 
movement has set in. The one-sidedness of the nineteenth century 
creed is felt in the deeper thought all over the world : popular move- 
ments and scholarly efforts alike show the signs of a coming idealism, 
which has something better and deeper to say than merely that our 
life is a series of causal phenomena. Our time longs for a new inter- 
pretation of reality; from the depths of every science wherein for 
decades philosophizing was despised, the best scholars turn again to a 
discussion of fundamental conceptions and general principles. Histor- 
ical thinking begins again to take the leadership which for half a cen- 
tury belonged to naturalistic thinking; specialistic research demands 
increasingly from day to day the readjustment toward higher unities, 
and the technical progress which charmed the world becomes more 
and more simply a factor in an ideal progress. The appearance of this 
unifying congress itself is merely one of a thousand symptoms of 
this change appearing in our public life, and if the scientific philo- 
sophy is producing to-day book upon book to prove that the world 
of phenomena must be supplemented by the world of values, that 
description must yield to interpretation, and that explanation must 


be harmonized with appreciation: it is but echoing in technical 
terms the one great emotion of our time. 

This certainly does not mean that any step of the gigantic material- 
istic, technical, and psychological development will be reversed, or 
that progress in any one of these directions ought to cease. On the 
contrary, no time was ever more ready to put its immense energies 
into the service of naturalistic work; but it does mean that our time 
recognizes the one-sidedness of these movements, recognizes that they 
belong only to one aspect of reality, and that another aspect is pos- 
sible; yes, that the other aspect is that of our immediate life, with its 
purposes and its ideals, its historical relations and its logical aims. 
The claim of materialism, that all psychical facts are merely functions 
of the organism, was no argument against psychology, because, 
though the biological view was possible, yet the other aspect is cer- 
tainly a necessary supplement. In the same way it is no argument 
against the newer view that all purposes and ideals, all historical 
actions and logical thoughts, can be considered as psychological phe- 
nomena. Of course we can consider them as such, and we must go on 
doing so in the service of the psychological and sociological sciences; 
but we ought not to imagine that we have expressed and understood 
the real character of our historical or moral, our logical or religious 
life when we have described and explained it as a series of phenomena. 
Its immediate reality expresses itself above all in the fact that it has 
a meaning, that it is a purpose which we want to understand, not by 
considering its causes and effects, but by interpreting its aims and 
appreciating its ideals. 

We should say, therefore, to-day that it is most interesting and 
important for the scientist to consider human life with all its strivings 
and creations from a biological, psychological, sociological point of 
view; that is, to consider it as a system of causal phenomena; and 
many problems worthy of the highest energies have still to be solved 
in these sciences. But that which the jurist or the theologian, the 
student of art or of history, of literature or of politics, of education or 
of morality, is dealing with, refers to the other aspect in which inner 
life is not a phenomenon but a system of purposes, not to be ex- 
plained but to be interpreted, to be approached not by causal but by 
teleological methods. In this case the historical sciences are no longer 
sub-sections of psychological or of sociological sciences; the concep- 
tion of science is no longer identical with the conception of the 
science of phenomena. There exist sciences which do not deal with 
the description or explanation of phenomena at all, but with the 
internal relation and connection, the interpretation and appreciation 
of purpose. In this way modern thought demands that sciences of 
purpose be coordinated with sciences of phenomena. Only if all these 
tendencies of our time are fully acknowledged can the outer frame- 


work of our classification offer a fair field to every scientific thought, 
while a positivistic system would cripple the most promising tend- 
encies of the twentieth century. 

2. The Four Theoretical Divisions 

We have first to determine the underlying structure of the classifi- 
cation, that is, we have to seek the chief Divisions, of which our plan 
shows seven; four theoretical and three practical ones. It will be a 
secondary task to subdivide them later into the 24 Departments and 
128 Sections. We desire to divide the whole of knowledge in a funda- 
mental way, and we must therefore start with the question of prin- 
ciple: --what is knowledge? This question belongs to epistemology, 
and thus falls, indeed, into the domain of philosophy. The positivist 
is easily inclined to substitute for the philosophical problem the 
empirical question: how did that which we call knowledge grow 
and develop itself in our individual mind, or in the mind of the 
nations? The question becomes, then, of course, one which must be 
answered by psychology, by sociology, and perhaps by biology. Such 
genetic inquiries are certainly very important, and the problem of 
how the processes of judging and conceiving and thinking are pro- 
duced in the individual or social consciousness, and how they are to 
be explained through physical and psychical causes, deserves fullest 
attention. But its solution cannot even help us as regards the funda- 
mental problem, what we mean by knowledge, and what the ultimate 
value of knowledge may be, and why we seek it. This deeper logical 
inquiry must be answered somehow before those genetic studies of the 
psychological and the sociological positivists can claim any truth at 
all, and thus any value, for their outcome. To explain our present 
knowledge genetically from its foregoing causes means merely to con- 
nect the present experience, which we know, with a past experience, 
which we remember, or with earlier phenomena which we construct 
on the basis of theories and hypotheses; but in any case with facts 
which we value as parts of our knowledge and which thus presuppose 
the acknowledgment of the value of knowledge. We cannot deter- 
mine by linking one part of knowledge with another part of know- 
ledge whether we have a right to speak of knowledge at all and to 
rely on it. 

We can thus not start from the childhood of man, or from the begin- 
ning of humanity, or from any other object of knowledge, but we 
must begin with the state which logically precedes all knowledge; 
that is, with our immediate experience of real life. Here, in the naive 
experience in which we do not know ourselves as objects which we 
perceive, but where we feel ourselves in our subjective attitudes as 
agents of will, as personalities, here we find the original reality not yet 


shaped and remoulded by scientific conceptions and by the demands 
of knowledge. And from this basis of primary, naive reality we must 
ask ourselves what we mean by seeking knowledge, and how this 
demand of ours is different from the other activities in which we work 
out the meaning and the ideals of our life. 

One thing is certain, we cannot go back to the old dogmatic stand- 
point, whether rationalistic or sensualistic. In both cases dogmatism 
took for granted that there is a real world of things which exist in 
themselves independent of our subjective attitudes, and that our 
knowledge has to give us a mirror picture of that self-dependent 
world. Sensualism averred that we get this knowledge through our 
perceptions; rationalism, that we get it by reasoning. The one as- 
serted that experience gives us the data which mere abstract reason- 
ing can never supply; the other asserted that our knowledge speaks 
of necessity which no mere perception can find out. Our modern 
time has gone through the school of philosophical criticism, and the 
dogmatic ideas have lost for us their meaning. We know that the 
world which we think as independent cannot be independent of the 
forms of our thinking, and that no science has reference to any other 
world than the world which is determined by the categories of our 
apperception. There cannot be anything more real than the immedi- 
ate pure experience, and if we seek the truth of knowledge, we do not 
set out to discover something which is hidden behind our experience, 
but we set out simply to make something out of our experience which 
satisfies certain demands. Our immediate experience does not contain 
an objective thing and a subjective picture of it, but they are com- 
pletely one and the same piece of experience. We have the object of 
our immediate knowledge not in the double form of an outer object 
independent of ourselves and an idea in us, but we have it as our 
object there in the practical world before science for its special pur- 
poses has broken up that bit of reality into the physical material 
thing and the psychical content of consciousness. And if this double- 
ness does not hold for the immediate reality of pure experience, it 
cannot enter through that reshaping and reconstructing and connect- 
ing and interpreting of pure experience which we call our knowledge. 
All that science gives to us is just such an endlessly enlarged expe- 
rience, of which every particle remains objective and independent, 
inasmuch as it is not in us as psychical individuals, while yet com- 
pletely dependent upon the forms of our subjective experience. The 
ideal of truth is thus not to gain by reason or by observation ideas 
in ourselves which correspond as well as possible to absolute things, 
but to reconstruct the given experience in the service of certain 
purposes. Everything which completely fulfills the purposes of this 
intentional reconstruction is true. 

What are these purposes? One thing is clear from the first : There 


cannot be a purpose where there is not a will. If we come from pure 
experience to knowledge by a purposive transformation, we must 
acknowledge the reality of will in ourselves, or rather, we must find 
ourselves as will in the midst of pure experience before we reach any 
knowledge. And so it is indeed. We can abstract from all those recon- 
structions which the sciences suggest to us and go back to the most 
immediate nai've experience; but we can never reach an experience 
which does not contain the doubleness of subject and object, of will 
and world. That doubleness has nothing whatever to do with the 
difference of physical and psychical; both the physical thing and the 
psychical idea are objects. The antithesis is not that between two 
kinds of objects, since we have seen that in the immediate experience 
the objects are not at all split up into the two groups of material and 
mental things; it is rather the antithesis between the object in its 
undifferentiated state on the one side and the subject in its will-atti- 
tude on the other side. Yes, even if we speak of the subject which 
stands as a unity behind the will-attitudes, we are already reconstruct- 
ing the real experience in the interest of the purposes of knowledge. 
In the immediate experience, we have the will-attitudes themselves, 
and not a subject which wills them. 

If we ask ourselves finally what is then the ultimate difference 
between those two elements of our pure experience, between the object 
and the will-attitude, we stand before the ultimate data: we call that 
element which exists merely through a reference to its opposite, the 
object, and we call that element of our experience which is complete 
in itself, the attitude of the will. If we experienced liking or dislik- 
ing, affirming or denying, approving or disapproving in the same way 
in which we experience the red and the green, the sweet and the sour, 
the rock and the tree and the moon, we should know objects only. 
But we do experience them in quite a different way. The rock and 
the tree do not point to anything else, but the approval has no real- 
ity if it does not point to its opposition in disapproval, and the denial 
has no meaning if it is not meant in relation to the affirmative. This 
doubleness of our primary experience, this having of objects and of 
antagonistic attitudes must be acknowledged wherever we speak of ex- 
perience at all. We know no object without attitude, and no attitude 
without object. The two are one state; object and attitude form 
a unity which we resolve by the different way in which we experience 
these two features of the one state: we find the object and we live 
through the attitude. It is a different kind of awareness, the having 
of the object and the taking of the attitude. In real life our will is 
never an object which we simply perceive. The psychologist may treat 
the will as such, but in the immediate experience of real life, we are 
certain of our action by doing it and not by perceiving our doing; and 
this our performing and rejecting is really our self \vhich we posit as 


absolute reality, not by knowing it, but by willing it. This corner- 
stone of the Fichtean philosophy was forgotten throughout the un- 
critical and unphilosophical decades of a mere naturalistic age. But 
our time has finally come to give attention to it again. 

Our pure experience thus contains will-attitudes and objects of will, 
and the different attitudes of the will give the fundamental classes of 
human activity. We can easily recognize four different types of will- 
relation towards the world. Our will submits itself to the world ; our 
will approves the world as it is; our will approves the changes in the 
world; our will transcends the world. Yet we must make at once one 
more most important discrimination. We have up to this point sim- 
plified our pure experience too much. It is not true that we experience 
only objects and our own will-attitudes. Our will reaches out not only 
to objects, but also to other subjects. In our most immediate experi- 
ence, not reshaped at all by theoretical science, our will is in agree- 
ment or disagreement with other wills; tries to influence them, and 
receives influences and suggestions from them. The pseudo-philo- 
sophy of naturalism must say of course that the will does not stand in 
any direct relation to another will, but that the other persons are for 
us simply material objects which we perceive, like other objects, and 
into which we project mental phenomena like those which we find in 
ourselves by the mere conclusion of analogy. But the complex recon- 
structions of physiological psychology are therein substituted for the 
primary experience. If we have to express the agreement or disagree- 
ment of wills in the terms of causal science, we may indeed be obliged 
to transform the real experience into such artificial constructions; 
but in our immediate consciousness, and thus at the starting-point of 
our theory of knowledge, we have certainly to acknowledge that we 
understand the other person, accept or do not accept his suggestion, 
agree or disagree with him, before we know anything of a difference 
between physical and mental objects. 

We cannot agree with an object. We agree directly with a will, 
which does not come to us as a foreign phenomenon, but as a proposi- 
tion which we accept or decline. In our immediate experience will 
thus reaches will, and we are aware of the difference between our will- 
attitude as merely individual and our will-attitude as act of agree- 
ment with the will-attitude of other individuals. We can go still 
further. The circle of other individuals whose will we express in our 
own will-act may be narrow or wide, may be our friends or the nation, 
and this relation clearly constitutes the historical significance of our 
attitude. In the one case our act is a merely personal choice for 
personal purposes without any general meaning; in the other case it 
is the expression of general tendencies and historical movements. Yet 
our will-decisions can have connections still wider than those with our 
social community or our nation, or even with all living men of to-day. 


It- can seek a relation to the totality of those whom we aim to acknow- 
ledge as real subjects. It thus becomes independent of the chance 
experience of this or that man, or this or that movement, which 
appeals to us, but involves in an independent way the reference to 
every one who is to be acknowledged as a subject at all. Such refer- 
ence, which is no longer bound to any special group of historical in- 
dividuals, thus becomes strictly over-individual. We can then dis- 
criminate three stages: our merely individual will; secondly, our will 
as bound by other historical individuals; and thirdly, our over- 
individual will, which is not influenced by any special individual, 
but by the general demands for the idea of a personality. 

Each of those four great types of will-attitude which we insisted on 
that is, of submitting, of approving the given, of approving change, 
and of transcending can be carried out on these three stages, that 
is, as individual act, as historical act, and as over-individual act. 
And we may say at once that only if we submit and approve and 
change and transcend in an over-individual act, do we have Truth 
and Beauty and Morality and Conviction. If we approve, for instance, 
a given experience in an individual will-act, we have simply personal 
enjoyment and its object is simply agreeable; if we approve it in har- 
mony with other individuals, we reach a higher attitude, yet one which 
cannot claim absolute value, as it is dependent on historical considera- 
tions and on the tastes and desires of a special group or a school or a 
nation or an age. But if we approve the given object just as it is in an 
over-individual will-act, then we have before us a thing of beauty, 
whose value is not dependent upon our personal enjoyment as indi- 
viduals, but is demanded as a joy forever, by every one whom we 
acknowledge at all as a complete subject. In exactly the same way, 
we may approve a change in the world from any individual point of 
view: we have then to do with technical, practical achievements; or 
we may approve it in agreement with others : we then enter into the 
historical interests of our time. Or we may approve it, finally, in an 
over-individual way, without any reference to any special person- 
ality: then only is it valuable for all time, then only is it morally good. 
And if our will is transcending experience in an individual way, it can 
again claim no more than a subjective satisfaction furnished by any 
superstition or hope. But if the transcending will is over-individual, 
it reaches the absolute values of religion and metaphysics. 

Exactly the same differences, finally, must occur when our will sub- 
mits itself to experience. This submission may be, again, an individ- 
ual decision for individual purposes; no absolute value belongs to it. 
Or it may be again a yielding to the suggestions of other individuals; 
or it may, finally, again be an over-individual submission, which seeks 
no longer a personal interest. This submission is not to the authority 
of others, and is without reference to any individual; we assume 


that every one who is to share with us our world of experience has to 
share this submission too. That alone is a submission to truth, and 
experience, considered in so far as we submit ourselves to it over- 
individually, constitutes our knowledge. 

The system of knowledge is thus the system of experience with all 
that is involved in it in so far as it demands submission from our over- 
individual will, and the classification which we are seeking must be 
thus a division and subdivision of our over-individual submissions. 
But the submission itself can be of very different characters and these 
various types must give the deepest logical principles of scientific 
classification. To point at once to the fundamental differences: our 
will acknowledges the demands of other wills and of objects. We can- 
not live our life -- and this is not meant in a biological sense, but, 
first of all, in a teleological sense -- our life becomes meaningless, if 
our will does not respect the reality of will-demands and of objects of 
will. Now we have seen that the will which demands our decision may 
be either the individual will of other subjects or the over-individual 
will, which belongs to every subject as such and is independent of any 
individuality. We can say at once that in the same way we are led to 
acknowledge that the object has partly an over-individual character, 
that is, necessarily belongs to the world of objects of every possible 
subject, and partly an individual character, as our personal object. 
We have thus four large groups of experiences to which we submit 
ourselves: over-individual will-acts, individual will-acts, over-indi- 
vidual objects, individual objects. They constitute the first four large 
divisions of our system. 

The over-individual will-acts, which are as such teleologically bind- 
ing for every subject and therefore norms for his will, give us the 
Normative Sciences. The individual will-acts in the world of historical 
manifoldness give us the Historical Sciences. The objects, in so far 
as they belong to every individual, make up the physical world, and 
thus give us the Physical Sciences; and finally the objects, in so far 
as they belong to the individual, are the contents of consciousness, 
and thus give us the Mental Sciences. We have then the demarca- 
tion lines of our first four large divisions: the Normative, the Histor- 
ical, the Physical, and the Mental Sciences. Yet their meaning and 
method and difference must be characterized more fully. We must 
understand why we have here to deal with four absolutely different 
types of scientific systems, why the over-individual objects lead us 
to general laws and to the determination of the future, while the study 
of the individual will-acts, for instance, gives us the system of history, 
which turns merely to the past and does not seek natural laws; and 
why the study of the norms gives us another kind of system in which 
neither a causal nor an historical, but a purely logical connection pre- 
vails. Yet all these methodological differences result necessarily from 


the material with which these four different groups of sciences are 

Let us start again from the consideration of our original logical 
purpose. We feel ourselves bound and limited in our will by physical 
things, by psychical contents, by the demands of other subjects, and 
by norms. The purpose of all our knowledge is to develop completely 
all that is involved in this bondage. We want to develop in an over- 
individual way all the obligations for our submission which are 
necessarily included in the given objects and the given demands of 
subjects. We start of course everywhere and in every direction from 
the actual experience, but we expand the experience by seeking those 
objects and those demands to which, as necessarily following from the 
immediately given experience, we must also submit. And in thus 
developing the whole system of submissions, the interpretation of 
the experience itself becomes transformed: the physicist may per- 
haps substitute imperceptible atoms for the physical object and the 
psychologist may substitute sensations for the real idea, and the 
historian may substitute combinations of influences for the real per- 
sonality, and the student of norms may substitute combinations of 
conflicting demands for the one complete duty; yet in every case the 
substitution is logically necessary and furnishes us what we call truth 
inasmuch as it is needed to develop the concrete system of our sub- 
missions and thus to express our confidence in the order-lines of real- 
ity. And each of these substitutions and supplementations becomes, 
as material of knowledge, itself a part of the world of experience. 

3. The Physical and the Mental Sciences 

The physicist, we said, speaks of the world of objects in so far as 
they belong to every possible subject, and are material for a merely 
passive spectator. Of course the pure experience does not offer us any- 
thing of that kind. We insisted that the objects of our real life are 
objects of our will and of our attitudes, and are at the same time un- 
differentiated into the physical things outside of us and the psychical 
ideas in us. To reach the abstraction of the physicist, we have thus to 
cut loose the objects from our will and to separate the over-individual 
elements from the individual elements. Both transformations are 
clearly demanded by our logical aims. As to the cutting loose from our 
will, it means considering the object as if it existed for itself, as if it 
were a mere passively given material and not a material of our per- 
sonal interests. But just that is needed. We want to find out how 
far we have to submit ourselves to the object. If we want to live our 
life, we must adjust our attitudes to things, and, as we know our will, 
we must seek to understand the other factor in the complex experi- 
ence, the object of our will, and we must find out what it involves in 


itself. But we do not understand the object and the submission which 
it demands if we do not completely understand its relation to our 
desires. Our total submission to the thing thus involves our acknow- 
ledgment of all that we have to expect from it. And although the 
real experience is a unity of will and thing, we have thus the most 
immediate interest in considering what we have to expect from the 
thing in itself, without reference to our will. That means finding out 
the effects of the given object with a subject as the passive spec- 
tator. We eliminate artificially, therefore, the activity of the subject 
and construct as presupposition for this circle of knowledge a nowhere 
existing subject without activity, for which the thing exists merely 
as a cause of the effects which it produces. 

The first step towards natural science is, therefore, to dissolve 
the real experience into thing and personality; that is, into object 
and active subject, and to eliminate in an artificial abstraction the 
activity of the subject, making the object material of merely passive 
awareness, and related no longer to the will but merely to other 
objects. It may be more difficult to understand the second step which 
naturalism has to take before a natural science is possible. It must 
dissolve the object of will into an over-individual and an individual 
part and must eliminate the individual. That part of my objects 
which belongs to me alone is their psychical side; that which belongs 
to all of us and is the object of ever new experience is the physical 
object. As a physicist, in the widest sense of the word, I have to ignore 
the objects in so far as they are my ideas and have to consider the 
stones and the stars, the inorganic and the organic objects, as they 
are outside of me, material for every one. The logical purpose of this 
second abstraction may be perhaps formulated in the following way. 

We have seen that the purpose of the study of the objects is to find 
out what we have to expect from them; that is, to what effects of the 
given thing we have to submit ourselves in anticipation. The ideal 
aim is thus to understand completely how present objects and future 
objects --that is, how causes and effects -- are connected. The first 
stage in such knowledge of causal connections is, of course, the obser- 
vation of empirical consequences. Our feeling of expectation grows 
with the regularity of observed succession; yet the ideal aim can 
never be fulfilled in that way. The mere observation of regularities 
can help us to reduce a particular case to a frequently observed type, 
but what we seek to understand is the necessity of the process. Of 
course we have to formulate laws, and as soon as we acknowledge 
a special law to be expressive of a necessity, the subsumption of the 
particular case under the law will satisfy us even if the necessity of the 
connection is not recognized in the particular case. We are satisfied 
because the acknowledgment of the law involved all possible cases. 
But we do not at all feel that we have furnished a real explanation if 


the law means to us merely a generalization of routine experiences, 
and if thus no absolute validity is attached to the law. This necessity 
between cause and effect must thus have its ultimate reason in our 
own understanding. We must be logically obliged to connect the 
objects in such a way, and wherever observation seems to contradict 
that which is logically necessary, we must reshape our idea of the 
object till the demands of reason are fulfilled. That is, we must sub- 
stitute for the given object an abstraction which serves the purpose of 
a logically necessary connection. That demand is clearly not satisfied 
if we simply group the totality of such causal judgments under the 
single name, Causality, and designate thus all these judgments as 
results of a special disposition of the understanding. We never under- 
stand why just this cause demands just this effect so long as we rely 
on such vague and mystical power of our reason to link the world by 

But the situation changes at once if we go still further back in the 
categories of our understanding. While a mere demand for causality 
never explains what cause is to be linked with what effect, the vague- 
ness disappears when we understand this demand for causality itself 
as the product of a more fundamental demand for identity. That an 
object remains identical with itself does not need for us any further 
interpretation. That is the ultimate presupposition of our thought, 
and where a complete identity is found nothing demands further 
explanation. All scientific effort aims at so rethinking different ex- 
periences that they can be regarded as partially identical, and every 
discovery of necessary connection is ultimately a demonstration of 
identity. If we seek connections with the final aim to understand 
them as necessary, we must conceive the world of our objects in such 
a way that it is possible to consider the successive experiences as parts 
of a self-identical world; that is, as parts of a world in which no sub- 
stance and no energy can disappear or appear anew. To reach this end 
it is obviously needed that we eliminate from the world of objects all 
that cannot be conceived as identically returning in a new experience; 
that is, all that belongs to the present experience only. We do elimin- 
ate this by taking it up conceptually into the subject and calling it 
psychical, and thus leaving to the object merely that which is con- 
ceived as belonging to the world of everybody's experience, that is, of 
over-individual experience. The whole history of natural science is 
first of all the gigantic development of this transformation, resolution, 
and reconstruction. The objects of experience are re-thought till 
everything is eliminated which cannot be conceived as identical with 
itself in the experiences of all individuals and thus as belonging to the 
over-individual world. All the substitutions of atoms for the real thing, 
and of energies for the real changes, are merely conceptional schemes 
to satisfy this demand. 


The logically primary step is thus not the separation of the physical 
and the psychical things plus the secondary demand to connect the 
physical things causally; the order is exactly opposite. The primary 
desire is to connect the real objects and to understand them as causes 
and effects. This understanding demands not only empirical observa- 
tion, but insight into the necessary connection. Necessary connec- 
tion, on the other hand, exists merely for identical objects and identi- 
cal qualities. But in the various experiences only that is identical 
which is independent of the momentary individual experiences, and 
therefore we need as the ultimate aim a reconstruction of the object 
into the two parts, the one perceptional, which refers to our individual 
experience; and the other conceptional, which expresses that which 
can be conceived as identical in every new experience. The ideal of 
this constructed world is the mechanical universe in which every 
atom moves by causal necessity because there is nothing in that 
universe, no element of substance and no element of energy, which 
will not remain identical in all changes of the universe which are pos- 
sibly to be expected. It becomes completely determinable by antici- 
pation and the system of our submissions to the object can be com- 
pletely constructed. The totality of intellectual efforts to reconstruct 
such a causally connected over-individual world of objects clearly 
represents a unity of its own. It is the system of physical sciences. 

The physical universe is thus not the totality of our objects. It is a 
substitution for our real objects, constructed by eliminating the indi- 
vidual parts of our objects of experience. These individual parts are 
the psychical aspects of our objective experience, and they clearly 
awake our scientific interest too. The physical sciences need thus as 
counterpart a division of mental sciences. Their aim must be the same. 
We want to foresee the psychical results and to understand causally 
the psychical experience. Yet it is clear that the plan of the mental 
sciences must be quite different in principle from that of the sciences 
of nature. The causal connection of the physical universe was ulti- 
mately anchored in the identity of the object through various experi- 
ences; while the object of experience was psychical for us just in so 
far as it could never be conceived as identical in different phases of 
reality. The psychical object is an ever new creation; my idea can 
never be your idea. Their meaning may be identical, but the psych- 
ical stuff, the content of my consciousness, can never be object for 
any one else, and even in myself the idea of to-day is never the idea 
of yesterday or to-morrow. But if there cannot be identity in different 
psychical experiences, it is logically impossible to connect them 
directly by necessity. If we yet want to master their successive 
appearance, we must substitute an indirect connection for the direct 
one, and must describe and explain the psychical phenomena through 
reference to the physical world. It is in this way that modern psycho- 


logy has substituted elementary sensations for the real contents of 
consciousness and has constructed relations between these element- 
ary mental states on the basis of processes in the organism, especially 
brain processes. Here, again, reality is left behind and a mere concep- 
tional construction is put in its place. But this construction fulfills 
its purpose and thus gives us truth; and if the basis is once given, the. 
psychological sciences can build up a causal system of the conscious 
processes in the individual man and in society. 

4. The Historical and the Normative Sciences 

The two divisions of the physical and mental sciences represent our 
systematized submission to objects. But we saw from the first that it 
is an artificial abstraction to consider in our real experience the object 
alone. We saw clearly that we, as acting personalities, in our will and 
in our attitudes, do not feel ourselves in relation to objects, merely, but 
to will-acts ; and that these will-acts were the individual ones of other 
subjects or the over-individual ones which come to us in our conscious- 
ness of norms. The sciences which deal with our submissions to the 
individual will-acts of others are the Historical Sciences. Their start- 
ing-point is the same as that of the object sciences, the immediate 
experience. But the other subjects reach our individuality from the 
start in a different way from the objects. The wills of other subjects 
come to us as propositions with which we have to agree or disagree; 
as suggestions, which we are to imitate or to resist; and they carry in 
themselves that reference to an opposite which, as we saw, character- 
izes all will-activity. The rock or the tree in our surroundings may 
stimulate our reactions, but does not claim to be in itself a decision 
with an alternative. But the political or legal or artistic or social or 
religious will of my neighbors not only demands my agreement or 
disagreement, but presents itself to me in its own meaning as a free 
decision which rejects the opposite, and its whole meaning is de- 
stroyed if I consider it like the tree or the rock as a mere phenom- 
enon, as an object in the world of objects. Whoever has clearly 
understood that politics and religion and knowledge and art and law 
come to me from the first quite differently from objects, can never 
doubt that their systematic connection must be most sharply sepa- 
rated from all the sciences which connect impressions of objects, and 
is falsified if the historical disciplines are treated simply as parts of 
the sciences of phenomena for instance, as parts of sociology, the 
science of society as a psycho-physical object. 

Just as natural science transcends the immediately experienced 
object and works out the whole system of our necessary submissions 
to the world of objects, so the historical sciences transcend the social 
will-acts which approach us in our immediate experience, and again 


seek to find what we are really submitting to if we accept the sugges- 
tions of our social surroundings. And yet this similar demand has 
most dissimilar consequences. We submit to an object and want to 
find out what we are really submitting to. That cannot mean any- 
thing else, as we have seen, than to seek the effects of the object and 
thus to look forward to what we have to expect from the object. 
On the other hand, if we want to find out what we are really sub- 
mitting to if we agree with the decision of our neighbor, the only 
meaning of the question can be to ask what our neighbor really is 
deciding on, what is contained in his decision; and as his decision 
must mean an agreement or disagreement with the will-act of another 
subject, we cannot understand the suggestion which comes to us 
without understanding in respect to what propositions of others it 
takes a stand. Our interest is in this case thus led from those sub- 
jects of will which enter into our immediate experience to other sub- 
jects whose purposes stand in the relation of suggestion and demand 
to the present ones. And if we try to develop the system of these 
relations, we come to an endless chain of will-relations, in which one 
individual will always points back in its decisions to another indi- 
vidual will with which it agrees or disagrees, which it imitates or 
overcomes by a new attitude of will; and the whole network of these 
will-relations is the political or religious or artistic or social history 
of mankind. This system of history as a system of teleologically 
connected will-attitudes is elaborated from the will-propositions 
which reach us in immediate experience, with the same necessity 
with which the mechanical universe of natural science is worked out 
from the objects of our immediate experience. 

The historical system of will-connections is similar to the system of 
object-connections, not only in its starting in the immediate experi- 
ence, but further in its also seeking identities. Without this feature 
history would not offer to our understanding real connections. We 
must link the will-attitudes of men by showing the identity of the 
alternatives. Just as the physical thing is substituted by a large 
number of atoms which remain identical in the causal changes, in 
the same way the personality is substituted by an endless manifold- 
ness of decisions and becomes linked with the historical community 
by the thought that each of these partial decisions refers to an alter- 
native which is identical with that of other persons. And yet there 
remains a most essential difference between the historical and the 
causal connection. In a world of things the mere identical continu- 
ity is sufficient to determine the phenomena of any given moment. 
In a world of will the identity of alternatives cannot determine be- 
forehand the actual decision; that belongs to the free activity of the 
subject. If this factor of freedom were left out, man would be made 
an object and history a mere appendix of natural science. The 


connection of the historian can therefore never be a necessary one, 
however much we may observe empirical regularities. If there were 
no identities, our reason could not find connection in history; but if the 
historical connections were necessary, like the causal ones, it would 
not be history. The historian is, therefore, unable and without the 
ambition to look into the future like the naturalist; his domain is 
the past. 

Yet will-attitudes and will-acts can also be brought into necessary 
connection; that is, we can conceive will-acts as teleologically iden- 
tical with each other and exempt from the freedom of the individual. 
That is clearly possible only if they are conceived as beyond the free- 
dom of individual decision and related to the over-individual subject. 
The question is then no longer how this special man wills and decides, 
but how far a certain will-decision binds every possible individual who 
performs this act if he is to share our common world of will and mean- 
ing. Such an over-individual connection of will-acts is what we call 
the logical connection. It shares with all other connections the depend- 
ence upon the category of identity. The logical connection shows 
how far one act or combination of acts involves, and thus is partially 
identical with, a new combination. This logical connection has, in 
common with the causal connection, necessity; and in common with 
the historical connection, teleological character. Any individual will- 
act of historical life may be treated for certain purposes as such a 
starting-point of over-individual relations ; it would then lead to that 
scientific treatment which gives us an interpretation, for instance, of 
law. Such interpretative sciences belong to the system of history in 
the widest sense of the word. 

The chief interest, however, must belong to the logical connections 
of those will-acts which themselves have over-individual character. 
A merely individual proposition can lead to necessary logical connec- 
tion, but cannot claim that scientific importance which belongs to 
the logical connection of those propositions which are necessary for 
the constitution of every real experience : the science of chess cannot 
stand on the same level with the science of geometry, the science of 
local legal statutes not on the same level with the system of ethics. 
The logical connections of the over-individual attitudes thus consti- 
tute the fourth large division besides the physical, the mental, and the 
historical sciences. It must thus comprise the systems of all those 
propositions which are presuppositions of our common reality, in- 
dependent of the free individual decision. Here belong the acts of 
approval -- the ethical approval of changes and achievements, as 
well as the aesthetic approval of the given world; the acts of convic- 
tion the religious convictions of a superstructure of the world as 
well as the metaphysical convictions of a substructure; and above 
all, the acts of affirmation and submission, the logical as well as the 


mathematical. But to be consistent we must really demand that 
merely the over-individual logical connections are treated in this 
division. If we deal, for instance, with the aesthetical or ethical acts as 
psychological experiences, or as historical propositions, they belong 
to the psychical or historical division. Only the philosophical system 
of ethics or esthetics finds its place in this division. It is difficult to 
find a suitable name for this whole system of logical connections of 
over-individual attitudes. Perhaps it would be most correct to call it 
the Sciences of Values, inasmuch as every one of these over-individual 
decisions constitutes a value in our world which our individual will 
finds as an absolute datum like the objects of experience. Seen from 
another point of view, these values appear as norms which bind our 
practical will inasmuch as these absolute values demand of our will to 
realize them, and it may thus be permitted to designate this whole 
group of sciences as a Division of Normative Sciences. 

Our logical explanation of the meaning of these four divisions 
naturally began with the interpretation of that science which usually 
takes precedence in popular thought - - with the science of nature, 
that is, and passed then to those groups whose methodological situa- 
tion is seen rather vaguely by our positivistic age. But as soon as we 
have once defined and worked out the boundary lines of each of these 
four divisions, it would appear more logical to change their order and 
to begin with that division whose material is those over-individual 
will-acts on which all possible knowledge must depend, and then to 
turn to those individual will-acts which determine the formulation 
of our present-day knowledge, and then only to go to the objects of 
knowledge, the over-individual and the individual ones. In short, we 
must begin with the normative sciences, consider in the second place 
the historical sciences, in the third place the physical sciences, and 
in the fourth place the psychical sciences. There cannot be a scientific 
judgment which must not find its place somewhere in one of these 
four groups. And yet can we really say that these four great divisions 
complete the totality of scientific efforts? The plan of our Congress 
contains three important divisions besides these. 

5. The Three Divisions of Practical Sciences 

The three divisions which still lie before us represent Practical 
Knowledge. Have we a logical right to put them on an equal level 
with the four large divisions which we have considered so far? Might it 
not rather be said that all that is knowledge in those practical sciences 
must find its place somewhere in the theoretical field, and that every- 
thing outside of it is not knowledge, but art ? It cannot be denied 
indeed that the logical position of the practical sciences presents seri- 
ous problems. That the function of the engineer or of the physician, 


of the lawyer or of the minister, of the diplomat or of the teacher, 
contains elements of an art cannot be doubted. They all need not 
only knowledge, but a certain instinct and power and skill, and their 
schooling thus demands a training and discipline through imitation 
which cannot be substituted by mere learning. Yet when it comes to 
the classification of sciences, it seems very doubtful whether practical 
sciences have to be acknowledged as special divisions, inasmuch as 
the factor of art must have been eliminated at the moment they are 
presented as sciences. The auscultation of the physician certainly 
demands skill and training, yet this practical activity itself does not 
enter into the science of medicine as presented in medical writings. 
As soon as the physician begins to deal with it scientifically, he 
needs, as does any scholar, not the stethoscope, but the pen. He 
must formulate judgments; and as soon as he simply describes and 
analyzes and explains and interprets his stethoscopic experiences, 
his statements become a system of theoretical ideas. 

We can say in general that the science of medicine or of engineering, 
of jurisprudence or of education, contains, as science, no element of art, 
but merely theoretical judgments which, as such, can find their place 
somewhere in the complete systems of the theoretical sciences. If the 
physician describes a disease, its symptoms, the means of examining 
them, the remedies, their therapeutical effects, and the prophylaxis, 
in short, everything which the physician needs for his art, he does not 
record anything which would not belong to an ideally complete de- 
scription and explanation of the processes in the human body. In the 
same way it can be said that if the engineer characterizes the con- 
ditions under which an iron bridge will be safe, it is evident that he 
cannot introduce any facts which would not find their logical place in 
an ideally complete description of the properties of inorganic nature; 
and finally, the same is true for the statements of the politician, the 
jurist, the pedagogue, or the minister. Whatever is said about their 
art is a theoretical judgment which connects facts of the ideally 
complete system of theoretical science; in their case the facts of 
course belong in first line to the realm of the psychological, his- 
torical, and normative sciences. There never has been or can be 
practical advice in the form of words which is not in principle a state- 
ment of facts which belong to the absolute totality of theoretical 
knowledge. Seen from this point of view, it is evident that all our 
knowledge is fundamentally theoretical, and that the conception of 
practical knowledge is logically unprecise. 

But the opposite point of view might also be taken. It might be 
said that after all every kind of knowledge is practical, and our own 
deduction of the meaning of science might be said to suggest such 
interpretation. We acknowledged at the outset that the so-called 
theoretical knowledge is by no means a passive mirror-picture of an 


independent outside world; but that in every judgment real expe- 
rience is remoulded and reshaped in the service of certain purposes of 
will. Here lies the true core of that growing popular philosophy 
of to-day which, under the name of pragmatism, or under other titles, 
mingles the purposive character of our knowledge and the evolution- 
ary theories of modern biology in the vague notion that men created 
knowledge because the biological struggle for existence led to such 
views of the world; and that we call true that correlation of our 
experiences which has approved itself through its harmony with 
the phylogenetic development. Certainly we must reject such circle 
philosophies. We must see clearly that the whole conception of a 
biological development and of a struggle of organisms is itself only 
a part of our construction of causal knowledge. We must have know- 
ledge to conceive ourselves as products of a phylogenetic history, and 
thus cannot deduce from it the fact, and, still less, the justification 
of knowledge. Yet one element of this theory remains valuable: 
knowledge is indeed a purposive activity, a reconstruction of the 
world in the service of ideals of the will. We have thus from one side 
the suggestion that all knowledge is merely theoretical, from the other 
side the claim that all knowledge is practical activity. It seems as if 
both sides might agree that it is superfluous and unjustified to make 
a demarcation line through the field of knowledge and to separate 
two sorts of knowledge, theoretical and practical. For both theories 
demand that all knowledge be of one kind , and they disagree only as 
to whether we ought to call it all theoretical or all practical. 

Yet the true situation is not characterized by such an antithesis. 
If we say that all knowledge is ultimately practical, we are speaking 
from an epistemological point of view, inasmuch as we take it then as 
a reconstruction of the world through the purposive activity of the 
over-individual subject. On the other hand it is an empirical point of 
view from which ultimately all knowledge, that of the physician and 
engineer and lawyer, as well as that of the astronomer, appears theo- 
retical. But this antithesis can, therefore, not decide the further 
empirical question, whether or not in the midst of theoretical know- 
ledge two kinds of sciences may be discriminated, of which the one 
refers to empirical practical purposes and the other not. Such an 
inquiry would have nothing to do with the epistemological problem of 
pragmatism; it would be strictly non-philosophical, just as the separa- 
tion of chemistry into organic and inorganic chemistry. This empir- 
ical question is indeed to be answered in the affirmative. If we ask 
what causes bring about a certain effect, for the sake of a practical 
purpose of ours, for instance, the curing a patient of a disease, no 
one can state facts which are not in principle to be included in the 
complete system of physical causes and effects and thus in the system 
of physical sciences. And yet it may well be that the physical sciences, 


as such, have not the slightest reason to mention the effect of that 
special drug on that special pathological alteration of the tissues of 
the organism. The descriptions and explanations of science are not a 
mere heaping up of material, but a steady selection in the interest of 
the special aim of the science. No physical science describes every 
special pebble on the beach ; no historical science deals with the chance 
happenings in the daily life of any member of the crowd. And we 
already well know the point of view from which the selection is to be 
performed. We want to know in the physical and psychical sciences 
whatever is involved in the object of our experience, and in the his- 
torical and normative sciences whatever is involved in the demands 
which reach our will. But w r hether we have to do with the objects or 
with the demands, in both cases we have systems before us which are 
determined only by the objects or demands themselves, without any 
relation to our individual will and our own practical activity. Theo- 
retically, of course, our will, our activity, our organism, our person- 
ality is included in the complete system; and if we knew absolutely 
everything of the empirical effects of the object or of the consequences 
of these demands, we should find among them their relation to our 
individual interests; but that relation would be but one chance 
case among innumerable others, and the sciences would not have the 
slightest interest in giving any attention to that particular case. Thus 
if our knowledge of chemical substances were complete, we should 
certainly have to know theoretically that a few grains of antipyrine 
introduced into the organism have an influence on those brain centres 
which regulate the temperature of the human body. Yet if the chem- 
ist does not share the interest of the physician who wants to fight 
a fever, he would have hardly any reason for examining this particular 
relation, as it hardly throws light on the chemical constitution as 
such. In this way we might say in general that the relation of the 
world to us as acting individuals is in principle contained in the total 
system of the relations of our world of experience, but has a strictly 
accidental place there and can never be in itself a centre around which 
the scientific data are clustered, and science will hardly have an inter- 
est in giving any attention to its details. 

This relation of the world, the physical, the psychical, the histor- 
ical, and the normative world, to our individual, practical purposes 
can, however, indeed become the centre of scientific interest, and it is 
evident that the whole inquiry receives thereupon a perfectly new 
direction which demands not only a completely new grouping of facts 
and relations, but also a very different shading in elaboration. As 
long as the purpose was to understand the world without relation to 
our individual aims, science had to gather endless details which are 
for us now quite indifferent, as they do not touch our aims; and in 
other respects science was satisfied with broad generalizations and 


abstractions where we have now to examine the most minute details. 
In short, the shifting of the centre of gravity creates perfectly new 
sciences which must be distinguished; and if we call them again theo- 
retical and practical sciences, it is clear that this difference has then 
no longer anything to do with the philosophical problems from which 
we started. 

The term practical may be preferable to the other term which is 
sometimes used : Applied Science. If we construct the antithesis of 
theoretical and applied science, the underlying idea is clearly that we 
have to do on the practical side with a discipline which teaches how 
to apply a science which logically exists as such beforehand. Engin- 
eering, for instance, is an applied science because it applies the 
science of physics; but this is not really our deepest meaning here. 
Our practical sciences are not meant as mere applications of theo- 
retical sciences. They are logically somewhat degraded if they are 
treated in such a way. Their real logical meaning comes out only if 
they are acknowledged as self-dependent sciences whose material is 
differentiated from that of the theoretical sciences by the different 
point of view and purpose. They are methodologically perfectly inde- 
pendent, and the fact that a large part or theoretically even every- 
thing of their teaching overlaps the teaching of certain theoretical 
sciences ought not to have any influence on their logical standing. 
The practical sciences could be conceived as completely self-depend- 
ent, without the existence of any so-called theoretical sciences; 
that is, the relations of the world of experience to our individual 
aims might be brought into complete systems without working out in 
principle the system of independent experience. We might have a 
science of engineering without acknowledging an independent science 
of theoretical physics besides it. To be sure, such a science of engin- 
eering would finally develop itself into a system which would con- 
tain very much that might just as well be called theoretical physics; 
yet all would be held together by the point of view of the engineer, 
and that part of theoretical physics which the engineer applies might 
just as well be considered as depracticalized engineering. If this 
logical self-dependence of the practical science holds true even for 
such technological disciplines, it is still more evident that it would 
cripple the meaning and independent character of jurisprudence and 
social science, or of pedagogy and theology, to treat them simply as 
applied sciences, that is, as applications of theoretical science. 

This point of view determines, also, of course, the classification of 
the Practical Sciences. If they were really merely applied sciences 
it would be most natural to group them according to the classification 
of the theoretical sciences which are to be applied. We should then 
have applied physical sciences, applied psychological sciences, applied 
historical sciences, and applied normative sciences. Yet even from the 


standpoint of practice, we should come at once into difficulties, and 
indeed much of the superficiality of practical sciences to-day results 
from the hasty tendency to consider them as applied sciences only, 
and thus to be determined by the points of view of the theoretical dis- 
cipline which is to be applied. Then, for instance, pedagogy becomes 
simply applied psychology, and the psychological point of view is 
substituted for the educational one. Pedagogy then becomes simply 
a selection of those chapters in psychology which deal with the mental 
functions of the child. Yet as soon as we really take the teachers' 
point of view, we understand at once that it is utterly artificial to sub- 
stitute the categories of the psychologist for those of immediate 
practical will-relations and to consider the child in the class-room as 
a causal system of pyscho-physical elements instead of a personality 
which is teleologically to be interpreted, and whose aims are not to be 
connected with causal effects but with over-individual attitudes. In 
this way the historical relation and the normative relation have to 
play at least as important a role in the pedagogical system as the 
psycho-physical relation, and we might quite as well call education 
applied history and applied ethics. 

Almost every practical science can be shown in this way to apply 
a number of theoretical sciences; it synthesizes them to a new unity. 
But better, we ought to say, that it is a unity in itself from the start, 
and that it only overlaps with a number of theoretical sciences. If 
we want to classify the practical sciences, we have thus only the one 
logical principle at our disposal : we must classify them in accordance 
with the group of human individual aims which control those dif- 
ferent disciplines. If all practical sciences deal with the relation of 
the world of experience to our individual practical ends, the classes of 
those ends are the classes of our practical sciences, whatever combina- 
tions of applied theoretical sciences may enter into the group. Of 
course a special classification of these aims must remain somewhat 
arbitrary; yet it may seem most natural to separate three large divi- 
sions. We called them the Utilitarian Sciences, the Sciences of Social 
Regulation, and the Sciences of Social Culture. Utilitarian we may 
call those sciences in which our practical aim refers to the world of 
things; it may be the technical mastery of nature or the treatment 
of the body, or the production, distribution, and consumption of the 
means of support. The second division contains everything in which 
our aim does not refer to the thing, but to the other subjects; here 
naturally belong the sciences which deal with the political, legal, and 
social purposes. And finally the sciences of culture refer to those aims 
in which not the individual relations to things or to other subjects are 
in the foreground, but the purposes of the teleological development of 
the subject himself; education, art, and religion here find their place. 
It is, of course, evident that the material of these sciences frequently 


allows the emphasis of different aspects. For instance, education, 
which aims primarily at self-development, might quite well be con- 
sidered also from the point of view of social regulation; and still 
more naturally could the utilitarian sciences of the economic distri- 
bution of the means of support be considered from this point of 
view. Yet a classification of sciences nowhere suggests by its 
boundary lines that there are no relations and connections between 
the different parts; on the contrary, it is just the manifoldness of 
these given connections which makes it so desirable to become con- 
scious of the principles involved, and thus to emphasize logical 
demarcation lines, which of course must be obliterated as soon as 
any material is to be treated from every possible point of view. It may 
thus well be that, for instance, a certain industrial problem could be 
treated in the Normative Sciences from the point of view of ethics; in 
the Historical Sciences, from the point of view of the history of 
economic institutions; in the Physical Sciences, from the point of 
view of physics or chemistry; in the Mental Sciences, from the point 
of view of sociology; in the Utilitarian Sciences, from the point of 
view of medicine or of engineering, or of commerce and transporta- 
tion; and finally in the Regulative Sciences, from the point of view of 
political administration, or in the Social Sciences, from the standpoint 
of the urban community, and so on. The more complex the relations 
are, the more necessary is it to make clean distinctions between the 
different logical purposes with which the scientific inquiries start. 
Practical life may demand a combination of historical, sociological, 
psychological, economical, social, and ethical considerations; but not 
one of these sciences can contribute its best if the consciousness of 
these differences is lost and the deliberate combination is replaced by 
a vague mixture of the problems. 

6. The Subdivisions 

We have now before us the ground-plan of the scheme, the four 
theoretical divisions, and the three practical divisions; every addi- 
tional comment on the classification must be of secondary importance, 
as it has to refer to the smaller subdivisions, which cannot change the 
principles of the plan, and which have not seldom, indeed, been a re- 
sult of practical considerations. If, for instance, our Division of Cul- 
tural Sciences shows in the final plan merely the departments of 
Education and of Religion, while the originally planned Department 
of Art is left out, there was no logical reason for it, but merely the 
practical ground that it seemed difficult to bring such a practical art 
section to a desirable scientific level; we confine art, therefore, to 
the normative aesthetic and historical points of view. Or, to choose 
another illustration, if it happened that the normative sciences were 


finally organized without a section for the philosophy of law, this re- 
sulted from the fact that the American jurists, in contrast with their 
Continental European colleagues, showed a general lack of appre- 
ciation for such a section. A few sections had to be left out even for 
the chance reason that the leading speakers were obliged to with- 
draw at a time when it was too late to ask substitutes to work up 
addresses. And almost everywhere there had to be something arbi- 
trary in the limitation of the special sections. Though Otology and 
Laryngology were brought together into one section, they might just 
as well have been placed in two; and Rhinology, which was left out, 
might have been added as a third in that company. As to this sub- 
tler ramification, the plan has been changed several times during the 
period of the practical preparation of the plan, and much is the result 
of adjustment to questions of personalities. No one claims, thus, 
any special logical value for the final formulation of the sectional 
details, for which our chief aim was not to go beyond eight times 
sixteen, that is 128, sections, inasmuch as it was planned to have 
the meetings at eight different time-periods in sixteen different halls. 
If we had fulfilled all the wishes which were expressed by specialists, 
the number would have been quickly doubled. 

Yet a few remarks may be devoted to the branching off within the 
seven divisions, as a short discussion of some of these details may 
throw additional light on the general principles of the whole plan. If 
we thus begin with the Normative Sciences, we stand at once before 
one feature of the plan which has been in an especially high degree 
a matter of both approval and criticism : the fact that Mathematics 
is grouped with Philosophy. The Division was to contain, as we have 
seen, the systems of logically connected will-acts of the over-individ- 
ual subject. That Ethics or Logic or Esthetics or Philosophy of 
Religion deals with such over-individual attitudes cannot be doubted; 
but have we a right to coordinate the mathematical sciences with 
these philosophical sciences? Has Mathematics not a more natural 
place among the physical sciences coordinated with and introductory 
to Mechanics, Physics, and Astronomy? The mathematicians them- 
selves would often be inclined to accept without hesitation this neigh- 
borhood of the physical sciences. They would say that the mathe- 
matical objects are independent realities whose properties we study 
like those of nature, whose relations we "observe," whose existence 
we "discover," and in which we are interested because they belong to 
the real world. All this is true, and yet the objects of the mathema- 
tician are objects made by the logical will only, and thus different 
from all phenomena into which sensation enters. The mathema- 
tician, of course, does not reflect on the purely logical origin of the 
objects which he studies, but the system of knowledge must give to 
the study of the mathematical objects its place in the group where the 


functions and products of the over-individual attitudes are classified. 
The mathematical object is a free creation, and a creation not only 
as to the combination of elements that would be the case with 
many laboratory substances of the chemist too - - but a creation as to 
the elements themselves, and the value of that creation, its " mathe- 
matical interest," is to be judged by ideals of thought; that is, by 
logical purposes. No doubt this logical purpose is its application in 
the world of objects and the mathematical concepts must thus fit the 
objective world so absolutely that mathematics can be conceived as a 
description of the world after abstracting not only from the will-rela- 
tions, as physics does, but also from the content. Mathematics would, 
then, be the phenomenalistic science of the form and order of the 
world. In this way, mathematics has indeed a claim to places in both 
divisions: among the physical sciences if we emphasize its applica- 
bility to the world, and among the teleological sciences if we empha- 
size the free creation of the objects by the logical will. But if we really 
go back to epistemological principles, our system has to prefer the 
latter emphasis; that is, we must coordinate mathematics with logic 
and not with physics. 

As to the subdivision of philosophy, it is most essential for us to 
point to the negative fact that of course psychology cannot have a 
place in the philosophical department, as part of the Normative Divi- 
sion. There is perhaps no science whose position in the system of 
knowledge offers so many methodological difficulties as psychology. 
Historical tradition of course links it with philosophy; throughout a 
great part of its present endeavors it is, on the other hand, linked with 
physiology. Thus we find it sometimes coordinated with logic and 
ethics, and sometimes, especially in the classical positivistic systems, 
coordinated with the sciences of the organic functions. We have seen 
why a really logical treatment has to disregard those historical and 
practical relations and has to separate the psychological sciences from 
the philosophical and the biological sciences. Yet even this does 
not complete the list of problems which must be settled, inasmuch 
as modern thinkers have frequently insisted that psychology itself 
allows a twofold aspect. We can have a psychology which describes 
and explains the mental life by analyzing it into its elements and by 
connecting these elements through causality. But there may be 
another psychology which treats inner life in that immediate unity in 
which we experience it and seeks to interpret it as the free function 
of personality. This latter kind of psychology has been called volun- 
taristic psychology as against the phenomenalistic psychology which 
seeks description and explanation. Such voluntaristic psychology 
would clearly belong again to a different division. It would be a 
theory of individual life as a function of will, and would thus be 
introductory to the historical sciences and to the normative sciences 


too. Yet we left out this teleological psychology from our programme, 
as such a science is as yet a programme only. Wherever an effort is 
made to realize it, it becomes an odd mixture of an inconsistent phe- 
nomenalistic psychology on the one side, and philosophy of history, 
logic, ethics, and sesthetics on the other side. The only science which 
really has a right to call itself psychology is the one which seeks to 
describe and to explain inner life and treats it therefore as a system 
of psychical objects, that is, as contents of consciousness, that is, as 
phenomena. Psychology belongs, then, in the general division of 
psychical sciences as over against physical sciences, and both deal 
with objects as over against philosophy and history, which deal with 
subjects of will. 

The subdivision of the Historical Sciences offers no methodological 
difficulty as soon as those epistemological arguments are acknow- 
ledged by which we sharply distinguish history from the Physical 
and Mental Sciences. If history is a system of will-relations which 
is in teleological connection with the will-demands that surround us, 
then political history loses its predominant role, and the history of 
law and of literature, of language and of economy, of art and relig- 
ion, become coordinated with political development, while the mere 
anthropological aspect of man is relegated to the physical sciences. 
The more complete original scheme was here again finally condensed 
for practical reasons; for instance, the planned departments on the 
History of Education, on the History of Science, and on the History 
of Philosophy were sacrificed, and the department of Economic His- 
tory was joined to that of Political History. In the same way we felt 
obliged to omit in the end many important sections in the depart- 
ments; we had, for instance, in the History of Language at first a sec- 
tion on Slavic Languages; yet the number of scholars interested was 
too small to justify its existence beside a section on Slavic Literature. 
Also the History of Music was omitted from the History of Art ; and 
the History of Law was planned at first with a fuller ramification. 

The division of Physical Sciences naturally suggested that kind of 
subdivision which the positivistic classification presents as a com- 
plete system of sciences. Considering physics and chemistry as the 
two fundamental sciences of general laws, we turn first to astronomy, 
then from the science of the whole universe to the one planet, to the 
sciences of the earth; thence to the living organisms on the earth; and 
from biology to the still narrower circle of anthropology. The special 
classification of physics offers a certain difficulty. To divide it in text- 
book fashion into sound, light, electricity, etc., seems hardly in har- 
mony with the effort to seek logical principles in the other parts of the 
classification. The three groups which we finally formed, Physics of 
Matter, Physics of Ether, and Physics of Electron, may appear some- 
what too much influenced by the latest theories of to-day, yet it 


seemed preferable to other principles. In the biological department, 
criticism seems justified in view of the fact that we constructed 
a special section, Human Anatomy. A strictly logical scheme might 
have acknowledged that human anatomy is to-day not a separate 
science, and that it has resolved itself into comparative anatomy. 
Sections of Invertebrate and Vertebrate Anatomy might have been 
more satisfactory. The final arrangement was a concession to the 
practical interests of the physicians, who have naturally to emphasize 
the anatomy of the human organism. 

In the division of Mental Sciences, w r e have the Department of 
Sociology. We were, of course, aware that the sociological interest 
includes not only the psychological, but also the physiological life 
of society, and that it thus has relations to the physical sciences 
too. Yet these relations are logically not more fundamental than 
those of the individual mental life to the functions of the indi- 
vidual organism. Much of the physiological side was further to 
be handed over to the Department of Anthropology, and thus we 
felt justified in grouping sociology with psychology under the Men- 
tal Sciences, as the psychology of the social organism. Here, too, 
a larger number of sections was intended and only the two most 
essential ones, Social Structure and Social Psychology, were finally 

The ramifications of the practical sciences had to follow the general 
principle that their character is determined by purpose and not by 
material. The difficulty was here merely in the extreme specialization 
of the practical disciplines, which suggests on the whole the forming of 
very small units, while our plan was to provide for fifty practical sec- 
tions only. It seemed, therefore, incongruous to have the whole of 
Internal Medicine or the whole of Private Law condensed into one 
section. Yet as the purpose of the scheme was a theoretical and not a 
practical one, even where the theory of practical sciences was in ques- 
tion, we felt justified in constructing coordinated sections, even where 
the practical importance was very unequal. On the other hand, some 
glaring defects just here are due merely to chance circumstances. 
That there were, for instance, no sections on Criminal Law or Eccle- 
siastical Law in the Department of Jurisprudence, nor on Legal Pro- 
cedure, resulted from the unfortunate accident that in these cases the 
speakers who were to come from Europe were withheld by illness or 
public duties. The absence of the Department of Art in the Division 
of Social Culture, and thus of the Sections on the theory and practice 
of the different arts, has been explained before. It is evident that 
also in the Economical Department the practical development has 
interfered with the original symmetrical arrangement of the sec- 
tions. This is not true of the Religious Department, whose six 
sections express the tendencies of the original plan. The fre- 


quently expressed criticism that the different religions and their 
denominations ought to have found place there shows a mis- 
conception of our purpose; a Parliament of Religion did not belong 
to this plan. 



The programme of the Congress, as outlined in the previous 
pages, was in this case somewhat more than a mere programme. It 
not only invited to do a piece of work, but it sought to contribute to 
the work itself. Yet the chief work had to be done by others, and 
their part needed careful preparation. Yet very little of the prepar- 
ation showed itself to the eyes of the larger public, and few were fully 
aware what a complex organization was growing up and how many 
persons of mark were cooperating. 

It was essential to find for every address the best man. Specialists 
only could suggest to the committees where to find him. It has been 
told before how our invitations were brought to the foreigners first 
till the desired number of foreign participants was secured, and how 
the Americans followed. As could not be otherwise expected, interfer- 
ences of all kinds disturbed the ideal configuration of the first list of 
acceptances; substitutes had sometimes to be relied on; and yet, 
when on the nineteenth of September President Francis welcomed th,e 
Congress of Arts and Science in the gigantic Festival Hall of the St. 
Louis Exposition, the Committee knew that almost four hundred 
speakers had completed their manuscripts, and that it was a galaxy 
which far surpassed in importance that of any previous international 
congress. And the list of those who stood for the success of the work 
was not confined to the official speakers. Each Department and each 
Section had its own honorary President, who w r as also chosen by the 
consent of leading specialists and whose introductory remarks were to 
give additional importance to the gathering. At their side stood the 
hundred and thirty Secretaries, carefully chosen from among the pro- 
ductive scholars of the younger generation. And a large number of 
informal, yet officially invited contributors, had announced valuable 
discussions and addresses for almost every Section. Invitations to 
membership finally had been sent to the universities and scholarly 
societies of all countries. 

That the turmoil of a world's fair is out of harmony with the 
scholar's longing for repose and quietude is a natural presupposition, 
which has not been disproved by the experience of St. Louis. When 
Professor Newcomb, our President, spoke to the opening assembly on 
the dignity of scholarship, the scholar's peaceful address was accentu- 


ated by the thunder of the cannons with which Boer and British 
forces were playing at war near by. The roaring of the Pike over- 
powered many a quiet session, and the patient speaker had not seldom 
to fight heroically with a brass band on the next lawn. The trains 
were delayed, trunks were mixed up, and the sultry St. Louis weather 
stirred much secret longing for the seashore and the mountains, which 
most had to leave too early for that pilgrimage to the Mississippi 
Valley. Yet all this could have been easily foreseen, and every one 
knew that all this would soon be forgotten. These slight discomforts 
were many times made up for by the overwhelming beauty of that 
ivory city in which the civilization of the world w r as focused by the 
united energy of the nations, and it seemed well worth while to cross 
the ocean for the delight of that enchantment which came with every 
evening's myriad illumination. And every day brought interesting 
festivities. No one will forget the receptions of the foreign commis- 
sioners, or the charming hospitality of the leading citizens of St. Louis, 
or the enthusiastic banquet which brought one thousand speakers 
and presidents and official members of the Congress together as guests 
of the master mind of the Exposition, President Francis. 

While the discomfort of external shortcomings was thus easily bal- 
anced, it is more doubtful whether the internal shortcomings of the 
work can be considered as fully compensated for. It would be impos- 
sible to overlook these defects in the realization of our plans, even if it 
may be acknowledged that they were unavoidable under the given 
conditions. The principal difficulty has been that many speakers 
have not really treated the topic for the discussion of which they were 
invited. This deviation from the plan took various forms. There was 
in some cases a fundamental attitude taken which did not harmonize 

with those logical principles which had led to the classification; for 
instance, we had sharply separated, for reasons fully stated above, 
the Division of History from the Division of Mental Sciences, includ- 
ing sociology; yet some papers for the Division of History clearly 
indicated sympathy with the traditional positivistic view, according 
to which history becomes simply a part of sociology. And similar 
variations of the general plan occur in almost every division. But 
there cannot be any objection to this secondary variety as long as the 
whole framework gives the primary uniformity. Certainly no one of 
the contributors is to be blamed for it; no one was pledged to the 
philosophy of the general plan, and probably few would have agreed 
if any one had had the idea of demanding from every contributor an 
identical background of general convictions. Such monotony would 
have been even harmful, as the work would have become inexpressive 
of the richness of tendencies in the scholarly life of our time. This was 
not an occasion where educated clerks were to work up in a second- 
hand way a report whose general trend was determined beforehand; 


the work demanded original thinkers, with whom every word grows 
out of a rich individual view of the totality. If every paper had been 
meant merely as a detailed amplification of the logical principles 
on which the whole plan was based, it would have been wiser to set 
young Doctor candidates to work, who might have elaborated the 
hint of the general scheme. To invite the leaders of knowledge meant 
to give them complete freedom and to confine the demands of the plan 
to a most general direction. 

The same freedom, which every one was to have as to the general 
standpoint, was intended also for all with regard to the arrangement 
and limitation of the topic. All the sectional addresses were supposed 
to deal either with relations or with fundamental problems of to-day. 
It would have been absurd to demand that in every case the totality 
of relations or of problems should be covered or even touched. The 
result would have become perfunctory and insignificant. No one 
intended to produce a cyclopedia. It was essential everywhere to 
select that which was most characteristic of the tendencies of the age 
and most promising for the science of the twentieth century. Those 
problems were to be emphasized whose solution is most demanded for 
the immediate progress of knowledge, and those relations had to be 
selected through which new connections, new synthetic thoughts 
prepare themselves to-day. That this selection had to be left to the 
speaker was a matter of course. 

Yet it may be said that in all these directions, with reference to the 
general standpoint and with reference to problems and relations, 
the Organizing Committee had somewhat prepared the choice through 
the selection of the speakers themselves. As the standpoints of the 
leading speakers were well known, it was not difficult to invite as far 
as possible for every place a scholar whose general views would be 
least out of harmony with the principles of the plan. For instance, 
when we had the task before us of selecting the divisional speakers for 
the Normative and for the Mental Sciences, it was only natural to 
invite for the first a philosopher of idealistic type and for the latter a 
philosopher of positivistic stamp, inasmuch as the whole scheme gave 
to the mental sciences the same place which they would have had in 
a positivistic scheme, while the normative sciences would have lost 
the meaning which they had in our plan if a positivist had simply 
psychologized them. In the same way we gave preference as far as 
possible, for the addresses on relations, to those scholars whose pre- 
vious w ? ork was concerned with new synthetic movements, and as 
speakers on problems those were invited who were in any case 
engaged in the solution of those problems which seemed central in 
the present state of science. Thus it was that on the whole the ex- 
pectation was justified that the most characteristic relations and the 
most characteristic problems would be selected if every invited 


speaker spoke essentially on those relations and on those problems 
with which his own special work was engaged. 

Yet there is no doubt that this expectation was sometimes ful- 
filled beyond our anticipation, in an amount of specialization which 
was no longer entirely in harmony with the general character of the 
undertaking. The general problem has become sometimes only the 
starting-point or almost the pretext for speaking on some relation 
or problem &o detailed that it can hardly stand as a representative 
symbol of the whole movement in that sectional field. Especially in 
the practical sciences more room was sometimes taken for particu- 
lar hobbies and chance aspects than in the eyes of the originators the 
occasion may have called for. Yet on the whole this was the excep- 
tion. The overwhelming majority of the addresses fulfilled nobly the 
high hopes of the Boards, and even in those exceptional cases where 
the speaker went his own way, it was usually such an original and 
stimulating expression of a strong personality that no one would care 
to miss this tone in the symphony of science. 

Even now of course, though the Congress days have passed, and 
only typewritten manuscripts are left from all those September 
meetings, it would be easy to provide, by editorial efforts, for a greater 
uniformity and a smoother harmonization. Most of the authors 
would have been quite willing to retouch their addresses in the 
interest of greater objective uniformity and to accept the hint of an 
editorial committee in elaborating more fully some points and in con- 
densing or eliminating others. Much was written in the desire to bring 
a certain thought for discussion before such an eminent audience, 
while the speaker would be ready to substitute other features of the 
subject for the permanent form of the printed volume. Yet such 
editorial supervision and transformation would be not only immodest 
but dangerous. We might risk gaining some external uniformity, but 
only to lose much of the freshness and immediacy and brilliancy of 
the first presentation. And who would dare to play the critical judge 
when the international contributors are the leaders of thought? 
There was therefore not the slightest effort made to suggest revision 
of the manuscripts, for which the whole responsibility must thus fall 
to the particular author. The reduction to a uniform language 
seemed, on the other hand, most natural, and those who had delivered 
their addresses in French, German, or Italian themselves welcomed 
the idea that their papers should be translated into English by com- 
petent specialists. The short bibliographies, selected mostly through 
the chairman of the departments, and the very full index with refer- 
ences may add to the general usefulness of the eight volumes in which 
the work is to be presented. 

But the significance of the Congress of Arts and Science ought not 
to be measured and valued only by reference to this printed result. 


Its less visible side-effects seem in no way less important for scholar- 
ship, and they are fourfold. There was, first, the personal contact 
between the scholarly public and the leaders of thought; there was, 
secondly, the first academic alliance between the United States and 
Europe; there was, thirdly, the first demonstration of a world con- 
gress crystallized about one problem; there was, fourthly, the unique 
accentuation of the thought of unity in all human science; and each 
of these four movements will be continued and reinforced by the pub- 
lication of these proceedings. 

The first of these four features, the contact of the scholarly public 
with the best thinkers of our time, had, to be sure, its limitations. It 
was not sought to create a really popular congress. Neither the level 
of the addresses, nor the size of the halls, nor the number of invita- 
tions sent out, nor the general conditions of a world's fair at which 
the expense of living is high and the distractions thousandfold, 
favored the attendance of crowds. It was planned from the first that 
on the whole scholars and specialists should attend and that the army 
should be made up essentially of officers. If in an astronomical section 
perhaps thirty men were present, among whom practically every one 
was among the best known directors of observatories or professors of 
mathematics, astronomy, or physics, from all countries of the globe, 
much more was gained than if three thousand had been in the audi- 
ence, brought together by an interest of curiosity in moon and stars. 
For the most part there must have been between a hundred and two 
hundred in each of the 128 sectional meetings, and that was more 
than the organizers expected. This direct influence on the inter- 
ested public is now to be expanded a thousandfold by the mission 
work of these volumes. The concentration of these hundreds of 
addresses into a few days made it in any case impossible to listen to 
more than to a small fraction; these volumes will bring at last all 
speakers to coordinated effectiveness; and while one hall suffered 
from bad acoustics, another from bad ventilation, and a third from 
the passing of the intermural trains, here at least is an audience in 
which nothing will disturb the sensitive nerves of the willing follower. 

But much more emphasis is due to the second feature. The Con- 
gress was an epoch-making event for the international world of 
scholarship from the fact that it was the first great undertaking in 
which the Old and the New Worlds stood on equal levels and in which 
Europe really became acquainted with the scientific life of these 
United States. The contact of scholarship between America and Eu- 
rope has, indeed, grown in importance through many decades. Many 
American students had studied in European and especially in German 
universities and had come back to fill the professorial chairs of the 
leading academic institutions. The spirit of the Graduate School and 
the work towards the Doctor's degree, yes, the whole productive 


scholarship of recent decades had been influenced by European ideals, 
and the results were no longer ignored at the seats of learning through- 
out the whole world. European scholars had here and there come as 
visiting lecturers or as assimilated instructors, and a few American 
scholars belonged to the leading European Academies. Yet, whoever 
knew the real development of American post-graduate university life, 
the rapid advance of genuine American scholarship, the incomparable 
progress of the scientific institutions of the New World, of their libra- 
ries and laboratories, museums and associations, was well aware that 
Europe had hardly noticed and certainly not fully understood the 
gigantic strides of the country which seemed a rival only on commer- 
cial and industrial ground. Europe was satisfied with the traditional 
ideas of America's scientific standing which reflected the situation of 
thirty years ago, and did not understand that the changes of a few 
lustres mean in the New World more than under the firmer traditions 
of Europe. American scientific literature was still neglected; Ameri- 
can universities treated in a condescending and patronizing spirit 
and with hardly any awareness of the fundamental differences in the 
institutions of the two sides. Those European scholars who crossed 
the ocean did it with missionary, or perhaps with less unselfish, inten- 
tions, and the Americans who attended European congresses were 
mostly treated with the friendliness which the self-satisfied teacher 
shows to a promising pupil. The time had really come when the con- 
trast between the real situation and the traditional construction 
became a danger for the scientific life of the time. Both sides had to 
suffer from it. The Americans felt that their serious and important 
achievements did not come to their fullest effectiveness through the 
insistent neglect of those who by the tradition of centuries had 
become the habitual guardians of scientific thought. A kind of feeling 
of dependency as it usually develops in weak colonies too often 
depressed the conscientious scholarship on American soil as the result 
of this undue condescension. Yet the greater harm was to the other 
side. Once before Europe had had the experience of surprise when 
American successes presented themselves where nothing of that kind 
was anticipated in the Old World. It was in the field of economic 
life that Europe looked down patronizingly on America's industrial 
efforts, and yet before she was fully aware how the change resulted, 
suddenly the warning signal of the "American danger" was heard 
everywhere. The surprise in the intellectual field will not be less. 
The unpreparedness was certainly the same. Of course, there cannot 
be any danger of rivalry in the scientific field, inasmuch as science 
knows no competition but only cooperation. And yet it cannot be 
without danger for European science if it willfully neglects and reck- 
lessly ignores this eager working of the modern America. For both 
sides a change in the situation was thus not only desirable, but neces- 


sary; and to prepare this change, to substitute knowledge for ignor- 
ance, nothing could have been more effective than this Congress of 
Arts and Science. 

Even if we abstract from the not inconsiderable number of those 
European scholars who followed naturally in the path of the invited 
guests, and if we consider merely the function of these invited par- 
ticipants, the importance of the procedure is evident. More than a 
hundred leading scholars from all European countries came under 
conditions where academic fellowship on an equal footing was a neces- 
sary part of the work. There was not the slightest premium held out 
which might have attracted them had not real interacademic interest 
brought them over the ocean, and no missionary spirit was appealed 
to, as everything was equally divided between American and foreign 
contributors. It was a real feast of international scholarship, in 
which the importance and the number of foreigners stamped it as 
the first significant alliance of the spirit of learning in the New and the 
Old Worlds. And it was essentially for this purpose that the week of 
personal intermingling in St. Louis itself was preceded and followed 
by happy weeks of visits to leading universities. Almost every one 
of those one hundred European scholars visited Harvard and Yale, 
Chicago and Johns Hopkins, Columbia and Pennsylvania, saw the 
treasures of Washington and examined the exhibitions of American 
scholarship in the World's Fair itself. The change of opinion, the dis- 
appearance of prejudice, the growth of confidence, the personal inter- 
collegiate ties which resulted from all that, have been evident since 
those days all over Europe. And it is not surprising that it is just 
the most famous and most important of the visitors, famous and im- 
portant through their width and depth of view, whose expression 
of appreciation and admiration for the new achievements has been 

We insisted that the effectiveness of the Congress showed itself in 
two other directions still: on the one side, there was at last a congress 
with a unified programme, a congress which stood for a definite 
thought, and which brought all its efforts to bear on the solution of 
one problem. There seemed a far-reaching agreement of opinion that 
this new principle of congress administration had successfully with- 
stood the test of practical realization. Mere conglomerations of un- 
connected meetings with casual programmes and unrelated papers 
cannot claim any longer to represent the only possible form of inter- 
national gatherings of scholars. More than that, their superfluous 
and disheartening character will be felt in future more strongly 
than before. No congress will appear fully justified whose printed 
proceedings do not show a real plan in its programme. And the 
consciousness of this mission of the Congress will certainly be again 
reinforced by the publication of these volumes, inasmuch as it is 


evident that they represent a substantial contribution to the know- 
ledge of our time which would not have been made without the 
special stimulating occasion of the Congress. 

And, finally, whether such a congress is held again or not, the 
impulse of this one cannot be lost on account of the special end to 
which all its efforts have been directed: the unity of scientific know- 
ledge. We had emphasized from the first that here was the centre 
of our purposes in a time whose scientific specialization necessarily 
involves a scattering of scholarly work and which yet in its deepest 
meaning strives for a new synthesis, for a new unity, which is to give 
to all this scattered labor a real dignity and significance; truly 
nothing was more needed than an intense accentuation of the internal 
harmony of all human knowledge. But for that it is not enough that 
the masses feel instinctively the deep need of such unifying move- 
ments, nor is it enough that the philosophers point with logical argu- 
ments towards the new synthesis. The philosopher can only stand by 
and point the way; the specialists themselves must go the way. And 
here at last they have done so. Leaders of thought have interrupted 
their specialistic work and have left their detailed inquiries to seek 
the fundamental conceptions and methods and principles which bind 
all knowledge together, and thus to work towards that unity from 
which all special work derives its meaning. Whether or not their 
cooperation has produced anything which is final is a question almost 
insignificant compared with the fundamental fact that they cooper- 
ated at all for this ideal synthetic purpose. This fact can never lose 
its influence on the scholarly effort of our age, and will certainly find 
its strongest reinforcement in this unified publication. It has ful- 
filled its noblest purpose if it adds strength to the deepest movement 
of our time, the movement towards unity of meaning in the scattered 
manifoldness of scientific endeavor with which the twentieth century 
has opened. 





As we look at the assemblage gathered in this hall, comprising so 
many names of widest renown in every branch of learning, we 
might almost say in every field of human endeavor, the first in- 
quiry suggested must be after the object of our meeting. The answer 
is, that our purpose corresponds to the eminence of the assemblage. 
We aim at nothing less than a survey of the realm of knowledge, as 
comprehensive as is permitted by the limitations of time and space. 
The organizers of our Congress have honored me with the charge of 
presenting such preliminary view of its field as may make clear the 
spirit of our undertaking. 

Certain tendencies characteristic of the science of our day clearly 
suggest the direction of our thoughts most appropriate to the oc- 
casion. Among the strongest of these is one toward laying greater 
stress on questions of the beginning of things, and regarding a know- 
ledge of the laws of development of any object of study as necessary 
to the understanding of its present form. It may be conceded that 
the principle here involved is as applicable in the broad field before 
us as in a special research into the properties of the minutest or- 
ganism. It therefore seems meet that we should begin by inquir- 
ing what agency has brought about the remarkable development 
of science to which the world of to-day bears witness. This view is re- 
cognized in the plan of our proceedings, by providing for each great 
department of knowledge a review of its progress during the century 
that has elapsed since the great event commemorated by the scenes 
outside this hall. But such reviews do not make up that general 
survey of science at large which is necessary to the development of 
our theme, and which must include the action of causes that had 
their origin long before our time. The movement which culminated 


in making the nineteenth century ever memorable in history is the 
outcome of a long series of causes, acting through many centuries, 
which are worthy of especial attention on such an occasion as this. 
In setting them forth we should avoid laying stress on those visible 
manifestations which, striking the eye of every beholder, are in no 
danger of being overlooked, and search rather for those agencies whose 
activities underlie the whole visible scene, but which are liable to be 
blotted out of sight by the very brilliancy of the results to w r hich they 
have given rise. It is easy to draw attention to the wonderful qualities 
of the oak; but from that very fact, it may be needful to point out 
that the real wonder lies concealed in the acorn from which it grew. 

Our inquiry into the logical order of the causes which have made 
our civilization what it is to-day will be facilitated by bringing to 
mind certain elementary considerations ideas so familiar that 
setting them forth may seem like citing a body of truisms and 
yet so frequently overlooked, not only individually, but in their 
relation to each other, that the conclusion to which they lead may be 
lost to sight. One of these propositions is that psychical rather than 
material causes are those which we should regard as fundamental in 
directing the development of - the social organism. The human 
intellect is the really active agent in every branch of endeavor, 
the primum mobile of civilization, and all those material mani- 
festations to which our attention is so often directed are to be re- 
garded as secondary to this first agency. If it be true that " in the 
world is nothing great but man; in man is nothing great but mind," 
then should the keynote of our discourse be the recognition of this 
first and greatest of powers. 

Another well-known fact is that those applications of the forces 
of nature to the promotion of human welfare which have made our 
age what it is, are of such comparatively recent origin that we need 
go back only "a single century to antedate their most important fea- 
tures, and scarcely more than four centuries to find their beginning. 
It follows that the subject of our inquiry should be the commence- 
ment, not many centuries ago, of a certain new form of intellectual 

Having gained this point of view, our next inquiry will be into the 
nature of that activity, and its relation to the stages of progress 
which preceded and followed its beginning. The superficial observer, 
who sees the oak but forgets the acorn, might tell us that the special 
qualities which have brought out such great results are expert 
scientific knowledge and rare ingenuity, directed to the application 
of the powers of steam and electricity. From this point of view the 
great inventors and the great captains of industry were the first 
agents in bringing about the modern era. But the more careful 
inquirer will see that the work of these men was possible only through 


a knowledge of the laws of nature, which had been gained by men 
whose work took precedence of theirs in logical order, and that 
success in invention has been measured by completeness in such 
knowledge. While giving all due honor to the great inventors, let 
us remember that the first place is that of the great investigators, 
whose forceful intellects opened the way to secrets previously hidden 
from men. Let it be an honor and not a reproach to these men, that 
they were not actuated by the love of gain, and did not keep utilita- 
rian ends in view in the pursuit of their researches. If it seems that in 
neglecting such ends they were leaving undone the most important 
part of their work, let us remember that nature turns a forbidding 
face to those who pay her court with the hope of gain, and is respons- 
ive only to those suitors whose love for her is pure and undefiled. 
Not only is the special genius required in the investigator not that 
generally best adapted to applying the discoveries which he makes, 
but the result of his having sordid ends in view would be to nar- 
row the field of his efforts, and exercise a depressing effect upon his 
activities. The true man of science has no such expression in 
his vocabulary as "useful knowledge." His domain is as wide 
as nature itself, and he best fulfills his mission when he leaves to 
others the task of applying the knowledge he gives to the world. 

We have here the explanation of the well-known fact that the 
functions of the investigator of the laws of nature, and of the in- 
ventor who applies these laws to utilitarian purposes, are rarely 
united in the same person. If the one conspicuous exception which 
the past century presents to this rule is not unique, we should prob- 
ably have to go back to Watt to find another. 

From this viewpoint it is clear that the primary agent in the 
movement which has elevated man to the masterful position he now 
occupies, is the scientific investigator. He it is whose work has de- 
prived plague and pestilence of their terrors, alleviated human suffer- 
ing, girdled the earth with the electric wire, bound the continent 
with the iron way, and made neighbors of the most distant nations. 
As the first agent which has made possible this meeting of his re- 
presentatives, let his evolution be this day our worthy theme. As we 
follow the evolution of an organism by studying the stages of its 
growth, so we have to show, how the work of the scientific investi- 
gator is related to the ineffectual efforts of his predecessors. 

In our time we think of the process of development in nature as 
one going continuously forward through the combination of the 
opposite processes of evolution and dissolution. The tendency of our 
thought has been in the direction of banishing cataclysms to the 
theological limbo, and viewing nature as a sleepless plodder, en- 
dowed with infinite patience, waiting through long ages for results. 
I do not contest the truth of the principle of continuity on which 


this view is based. But it fails to make known to us the whole truth. 
The building of a ship from the time that her keel is laid until she is 
making her way across the ocean is a slow and gradual process; yet 
there is a cataclysmic epoch opening up a new era in her history. It 
is the moment when, after lying for months or years a dead, inert, 
immovable mass, she is suddenly endowed with the power of motion, 
and, as if imbued with life, glides into the stream, eager to begin the 
career for which she was designed. 

I think it is thus in the development of humanity. Long ages 
may pass during which a race, to all external observation, appears to 
be making no real progress. Additions may be made to learning, and 
the records of history may constantly grow, but there is nothing in 
its sphere of thought, or in the features of its life, that can be called 
essentially new. Yet, nature may have been all along slowly working 
in a way which evades our scrutiny until the result of her operations 
suddenly appears in a new and revolutionary movement, carrying 
the race to a higher plane of civilization. 

It is not difficult to point out such epochs in human progress. The 
greatest of all, because it was the first, is one of which we find no 
record either in written or geological history. It was the epoch when 
our progenitors first took conscious thought of the morrow, first used 
the crude weapons which nature had placed within their reach to 
kill their prey, first built a fire to warm their bodies and cook their 
food. I love to fancy that there was some one first man, the Adam 
of evolution, who did all this, and who used the power thus acquired 
to show his fellows how they might profit by his example. When 
the members of the tribe or community which he gathered around 
him began to conceive of life as a whole, to include yesterday, to- 
day, and to-morrow in the same mental grasp to think how they 
might apply the gifts of nature to their own uses, --a movement 
was begun which should ultimately lead to civilization. 

Long indeed must have been the ages required for the development 
of this rudest primitive community into the civilization revealed to 
us by the most ancient tablets of Egypt and Assyria. After spoken 
language was developed, and after the rude representation of ideas 
by visible marks drawn to resemble them had long been practiced, 
some Cadmus must have invented an alphabet. When the use of 
written language was thus introduced, the word of command ceased 
to be confined to the range of the human voice, and it became pos- 
sible for master minds to extend their influence as far as a written 
message could be carried. Then were communities gathered into 
provinces; provinces into kingdoms; kingdoms into the great 
empires of antiquity. Then arose a stage of civilization which we 
find pictured in the most ancient records, a stage in which men 
were governed by laws that were perhaps as wisely adapted to their 


conditions as our laws are to ours, in which the phenomena of 
nature were rudely observed, and striking occurrences in the earth 
or in the heavens recorded in the annals of the nation. 

Vast was the progress of knowledge during the interval between 
these empires and the century in which modern science began. Yet, 
if I am right in making a distinction between the slow and regular 
steps of progress, each growing naturally out of that which preceded 
it, and the entrance of the mind at some fairly definite epoch into an 
entirely new sphere of activity, it would appear that there was only 
one such epoch during the entire interval. This was when abstract 
geometrical reasoning commenced, and astronomical observations 
aiming at precision were recorded, compared, and discussed. Closely 
associated with it must have been the construction of the forms of 
logic. The radical difference between the demonstration of a theorem 
of geometry and the reasoning of every-day life which the masses of 
men must have practiced from the beginning, and which few even 
to-day ever get beyond, is so evident at a glance that I need not 
dwell upon it. The principal feature of this advance is that, by one 
of those antinomies of the human intellect of which examples are not 
wanting even in our own time, the development of abstract ideas 
preceded the concrete knowledge of natural phenomena. When we 
reflect that in the geometry of Euclid the science of space was 
brought to such logical perfection that even to-day its teachers are 
not agreed as to the practicability of any great improvement upon 
it, we cannot avoid the feeling that a very slight change in the 
direction of the intellectual activity of the Greeks would have led to 
the beginning of natural science. But it would seem that the very 
purity and perfection which was aimed at in their system of geometry 
stood in the way of any extension or application of its methods and 
spirit to the field of nature. One example of this is worthy of atten- 
tion. In modern teaching the idea of magnitude as generated by 
motion is freely introduced. A line is described by a moving point; 
a plane by a moving line; a solid by a moving plane. It may, at first 
sight, seem singular that this conception finds no place in the Euclid- 
ian system. But we may regard the omission as a mark of logical 
purity and rigor. Had the real or supposed advantages of introduc- 
ing motion into geometrical conceptions been suggested to Euclid, 
we may suppose him to have replied that the theorems of space are 
independent of time; that the idea of motion necessarily implies 
time, and that, in consequence, to avail ourselves of it would be to 
introduce an extraneous element into geometry. 

It is quite possible that the contempt of the ancient philosophers 
for the practical application of their science, which has continued in 
some form to our own time, and which is not altogether unwholesome, 
was a powerful factor in the same direction. The result was that, 


in keeping geometry pure from ideas which did not belong to it, it 
failed to form what might otherwise have been the basis of physical 
science. Its founders missed the discovery that methods similar to 
those of geometric demonstration could be extended into other and 
wider fields than that of space. Thus not only the development of 
applied geometry, but the reduction of other conceptions to a rigorous 
mathematical form was indefinitely postponed. 

Astronomy is necessarily a science of observation pure and simple, 
in which experiment can have no place except as an auxiliary. The 
vague accounts of striking celestial phenomena handed down by the 
priests and astrologers of antiquity were followed in the time of the 
Greeks by observations having, in form at least, a rude approach to 
precision, though nothing like the degree of precision that the astro- 
nomer of to-day would reach with the naked eye, aided by such 
instruments as he could fashion from the tools at the command of 
the ancients. 

The rude observations commenced by the Babylonians were 
continued with gradually improving instruments, first by the 
Greeks and afterward by the Arabs, but the results failed to afford 
any insight into the true relation of the earth to the heavens. What 
was most remarkable in this failure is that, to take a first step forward 
which would have led on to success, no more*was necessary than a 
course of abstract thinking vastly easier than that required for work- 
ing out the problems of geometry. That space is infinite is an unex- 
pressed axiom, tacitly assumed by Euclid and his successors. Com- 
bining this with the most elementary consideration of the properties 
of the triangle, it would be seen that a body of any given size could 
be placed at such a distance in space as to appear to us like a point. 
Hence a body as large as our earth, which was known to be a globe 
from the time that the ancient Phoenicians navigated the Mediter- 
ranean, if placed in the heavens at a sufficient distance, would look 
like a star. The obvious conclusion that the stars might be bodies 
like our globe, shining either by their own light or by that of the sun, 
would have been a first step to the understanding of the true system 
of the world. 

There is historic evidence that this deduction did not wholly 
escape the Greek thinkers. It is true that the critical student will 
assign little weight to the current belief that the vague theory of 
Pythagoras that fire was at the centre of all things implies a 
conception of the heliocentric theory of the solar s}^stem. But the 
testimony of Archimedes, confused though it is in form, leaves no 
serious doubt that Aristarchus of Samos not only propounded the 
view that the earth revolves both on its own axis and around the sun, 
but that he correctly removed the great stumbling-block in the way 
of this theory by adding that the distance of the fixed stars was 


infinitely greater than the dimensions of the earth's orbit. Even the 
world of philosophy was not yet ready for this conception, and, so far 
from seeing the reasonableness of the explanation, we find Ptolemy 
arguing against the rotation of the earth on grounds which careful 
observations of the phenomena around him would have shown to be 

Physical science, if we can apply that term to an uncoordinated 
body of facts, was successfully cultivated from the earliest times. 
Something must have been known of the properties of metals, and 
the art of extracting them from their ores must have been practiced, 
from the time that coins and medals were first stamped. The pro- 
perties of the most common compounds were discovered by alchem- 
ists in their vain search for the philosopher's stone, but no actual 
progress worthy of the name rewarded the practitioners of the black 

Perhaps the first approach to a correct method was that of Archi- 
medes, who by much thinking worked out the law of the lever, 
reached the conception of the centre of gravity, and demonstrated 
the first principles of hydrostatics. It is remarkable that he did not 
extend his researches into the phenomena of motion, whether spon- 
taneous or produced by force. The stationary condition of the human 
intellect is most strikingly illustrated by the fact that not until the 
time of Leonardo was any substantial advance made on his discovery. 
To sum up in one sentence the most characteristic feature of ancient 
and medieval science, we see a notable contrast between the precision 
of thought implied in the construction and demonstration of geo- 
metrical theorems and the vague indefinite character of the ideas of 
natural phenomena generally, a contrast which did not disappear 
until the foundations of modern science began to be laid. 

We should miss the most essential point of the difference between 
medieval and modern learning if we looked upon it as mainly a differ- 
ence either in the precision or the amount of knowledge. The devel- 
opment of both of these qualities would, under any circumstances, 
have been slow and gradual, but sure. We can hardly suppose that 
any one generation, or even any one century, would have seen the 
complete substitution of exact for inexact ideas. Slowness of growth 
is as inevitable in the case of knowledge as in that of a growing organ- 
ism. The most essential point of difference is one of those seemingly 
slight ones, the importance of which we are too apt to overlook. It 
was like the drop of blood in the wrong place, which some one has 
told us makes all the difference between a philosopher and a maniac. 
It was all the difference between a living tree and a dead one, between 
an inert mass and a growing organism. The transition of knowledge 
from the dead to the living form must, in any complete review of the 
subject, be looked upon as the really great event of modern times. 


Before this event the intellect was bound down by a scholasticism 
which regarded knowledge as a rounded whole, the parts of which 
were written in books and carried in the minds of learned men. The 
student was taught from the beginning of his work to look upon 
authority as the foundation of his beliefs. The older the authority the 
greater the weight it carried. So effective was this teaching that it 
seems never to have occurred to individual men that they had all the 
opportunities ever enjoyed by Aristotle of discovering truth, with the 
added advantage of all his knowledge to begin with. Advanced as 
was the development of formal logic, that practical logic was wanting 
which could see that the last of a series of authorities, every one of 
which rested on those which preceded it, could never form a surer 
foundation for any doctrine than that supplied by its original pro- 

The result of this view of knowledge was that, although during the 
fifteen centuries following the death of the geometer of Syracuse 
great universities were founded at which generations of professors 
expounded all the learning of their time, neither professor nor student 
ever suspected what latent possibilities of good were concealed in the 
most familiar operations of nature. Every one felt the wind blow, saw 
water boil, and heard the thunder crash, but never thought of inves- 
tigating the forces here at play. Up to the middle of the fifteenth 
century the most acute observer could scarcely have seen the dawn 
of a new era. 

In view of this state of things, it must be regarded as one of the most 
remarkable facts in evolutionary history that four or five men, whose 
mental constitution was either typical of the new order of things or 
who were powerful agents in bringing it about, were all born during 
the fifteenth century, four of them at least at so nearly the same time 
as to be contemporaries. 

Leonardo da Vinci, whose artistic genius has charmed succeeding 
generations, was also the first practical engineer of his time, and the 
first man after Archimedes to make a substantial advance in develop- 
ing the laws of motion. That the world was not prepared to make 
use of his scientific discoveries does not detract from the significance 
which must attach to the period of his birth. 

Shortly after him was born the great navigator whose bold spirit 
was to make known a new world, thus giving to commercial enterprise 
that impetus which was so powerful an agent in bringing about a 
revolution in the thoughts of men. 

The birth of Columbus was soon followed by that of Copernicus, 
the first after Aristarchus to demonstrate the true system of the 
world. In him more than in any of his contemporaries do we see the 
struggle between the old forms of thought and the new. It seems 
almost pathetic and is certainly most suggestive of the general view 


of knowledge taken at that time that, instead of claiming credit for 
bringing to light great truths before unknown, he made a labored 
attempt to show that, after all, there was nothing really new in his 
system, which he claimed to date from Pythagoras and Philolaus. 
In this connection it is curious that he makes no mention of Aris- 
tarchus, who I think will be regarded by conservative historians as 
his only demonstrated predecessor. To the hold of the older ideas 
upon his mind we must attribute the fact that in constructing his 
system he took great pains to make as little change as possible in 
ancient conceptions. 

Luther, the greatest thought-stirrer of them all, practically of the 
same generation with Copernicus, Leonardo, and Columbus, does not 
come in as a scientific investigator, but as the great loosener of chains 
which had so fettered the intellect of men that they dared not think 
otherwise than as the authorities thought. 

Almost coeval with the advent of these intellects was the invention 
of printing with movable type. Gutenberg was born during the first 
decade of the century, and his associates and others credited with the 
invention not many years afterward. If we accept the principle on 
which I am basing my argument, that we should assign the first place 
to the birth of those psychic agencies which started men on new lines 
of thought, then surely was the fifteenth the wonderful century. 

Let us not forget that, in assigning the actors then born to their 
places, we are not narrating history, but studying a special phase of 
evolution. It matters not for us that no university invited Leonardo 
to its halls, and that his science was valued by his contemporaries 
only as an adjunct to the art of engineering. The great fact still is 
that he was the first of mankind to propound laws of motion. It is 
not for anything in Luther's doctrines that he finds a place in our 
scheme. No matter for us whether they were sound or not. What he 
did toward the evolution of the scientific investigator was to show by 
his example that a man might question the best-established and most 
venerable authority and still live --still preserve his intellectual 
integrity -- still command a hearing from nations and their rulers. 
It matters not for us whether Columbus ever knew that he had dis- 
covered a new continent. His work was to teach that neither h}^dra, 
chimera, nor abyss -- neither divine injunction nor infernal machina- 
tion was in the way of men visiting every part of the globe, and 
that the problem of conquering the world reduced itself to one of 
sails and rigging, hull and compass. The better part of Copernicus 
was to direct man to a viewpoint whence he should see that the 
heavens were of like matter with the earth. All this done, the acorn 
was planted from which the oak of our civilization should spring. 
The mad quest for gold which followed the discovery of Columbus, 
the questionings which absorbed the attention of the learned, the 


indignation excited by the seeming vagaries of a Paracelsus, the fear 
and trembling lest the strange doctrine of Copernicus should under- 
mine the faith of centuries, were all helps to the germination of the 
seed - - stimuli to thought which urged it on to explore the new fields 
opened up to its occupation. This given, all that has since followed 
came out in regular order of development, and need be here con- 
sidered only in those phases having a special relation to the purpose 
of our present meeting. 

So slow was the growth at first that the sixteenth century may 
scarcely have recognized the inauguration of a new era. Torricelli 
and Benedetti were of the third generation after Leonardo, and 
Galileo, the first to make a substantial advance upon his theory, was 
born more than a century after him. Only two or three men appeared 
in a generation who, working alone, could make real progress in dis- 
covery, and even these could do little in leavening the minds of their 
fellow men with the new ideas. 

Up to the middle of the seventeenth century an agent which all 
experience since that time shows to be necessary to the most pro- 
ductive intellectual activity was wanting. This was the attraction of 
like minds, making suggestions to each other, criticising, comparing, 
and reasoning. This element was introduced by the organization of 
the Royal Society of London and the Academy of Sciences of Paris. 

The members of these two bodies seem like ingenious youth sud- 
denly thrown into a new world of interesting objects, the purposes and 
relations of which they had to discover. The novelty of the situation 
is strikingly shown in the questions which occupied the minds of the 
incipient investigators. One natural result of British maritime enter- 
prise was that the aspirations of the Fellows of the Royal Society 
were not confined to any continent or hemisphere. Inquiries were 
sent all the way to Batavia to know "whether there be a hill in 
Sumatra which burneth continually, and a fountain which runneth 
pure balsam." The astronomical precision with which it seemed pos- 
sible that physiological operations might go on was evinced by the 
inquiry whether the Indians can so prepare that stupefying herb 
Datura that "they make it lie several days, months, years, according 
as they will, in a man's body without doing him any harm, and at 
the end kill him without missing an hour's time." Of this continent 
one of the inquiries was whether there be a tree in Mexico that yields 
water, wine, vinegar, milk, honey, wax, thread, and needles. 

Among the problems before the Paris Academy of Sciences those 
of physiology and biology took a prominent place. The distillation 
of compounds had long been practiced, and the fact that the more 
spirituous elements of certain substances were thus separated nat- 
urally led to the question whether the essential essences of life might 
not be discoverable in the same way. In order that all might par- 


ticipate in the experiments, they were conducted in open session of 
the Academy, thus guarding against the danger of any one member 
obtaining for his exclusive personal use a possible elixir of life. A 
wide range of the animal and vegetable kingdom, including cats, dogs, 
and birds of various species, were thus analyzed. The practice of 
dissection was introduced on a large scale. That of the cadaver of an 
elephant occupied several sessions, and was of such interest that the 
monarch himself was a spectator. 

To the same epoch with the formation and first work of these two 
bodies belongs the invention of a mathematical method which in its 
importance to the advance of exact science may be classed with the 
invention of the alphabet in its relation to the progress of society at 
large. The use of algebraic symbols to represent quantities had its 
origin before the commencement of the new era, and gradual^ grew 
into a highly developed form during the first two centuries of that 
era. But this method could represent quantities only as fixed. It is 
true that the elasticity inherent in the use of such symbols permitted 
of their being applied to any and every quantity; yet, in any one 
application, the quantity was considered as fixed and definite. But 
most of the magnitudes of nature are in a state of continual variation; 
indeed, since all motion is variation, the latter is a universal charac- 
teristic of all phenomena. No serious advance could be made in the 
application of algebraic language to the expression of physical phe- 
nomena until it could be so extended as to express variation in quan- 
tities, as well as the quantities themselves. This extension, worked 
out independently by Newton and Leibnitz, may be classed as the 
most fruitful of conceptions in exact science. With it the way was 
opened for the unimpeded and continually accelerated progress of the 
last two centuries. 

The feature of this period which has the closest relation to the 
purpose of our coming together is the seemingly unending subdivision 
of knowledge into specialties, many of which are becoming so minute 
and so isolated that they seem to have no interest for any but their 
few pursuers. Happily science itself has afforded a corrective for its 
own tendency in this direction. The careful thinker will see that in 
these seemingly diverging branches common elements and common 
principles are coming more and more to light. There is an increasing 
recognition of methods of research, and of deduction, which are com- 
mon to large branches, or to the whole of science. We are more and 
more recognizing the principle that progress in knowledge implies its 
reduction to more exact forms, and the expression of its ideas in 
language more or less mathematical. The problem before the organ- 
izers of this Congress was, therefore, to bring the sciences together, 
and seek for the unity which we believe underlies their infinite 


The assembling of such a body as now fills this hall was scarcely 
possible in any preceding generation, and is made possible now only 
through the agency of science itself. It differs from all preceding inter- 
national meetings by the universality of its scope, which aims to 
include the whole of knowledge. It is also unique in that none but 
leaders have been sought out as members. It is unique in that so 
many lands have delegated their choicest intellects to carry on its 
work. They come from the country to which our republic is indebted 
for a third of its territory, including the ground on which we stand; 
from the land which has taught us that the most scholarly devotion to 
the languages and learning of the cloistered past is compatible with 
leadership in the practical application of modern science to the arts 
of life; from the island whose language and literature have found 
a new field and a vigorous growth in this region; from the last seat 
of the holy Roman Empire; from the country which, remembering 
a monarch who made an astronomical observation at the Greenwich 
Observatory, has enthroned science in one of the highest places in its 
government; from the peninsula so learned that we have invited one 
of its scholars to come and tell us of our own language; from the land 
which gave birth to Leonardo, Galileo, Torricelli, Columbus, Volta 
what an array of immortal names ! from the little republic of 
glorious history which, breeding men rugged as its eternal snow- 
peaks, has yet been the seat of scientific investigation since the day of 
the Bernoullis; from the land whose heroic dwellers did not hesitate 
to use the ocean itself to protect it against invaders, and which now 
makes us marvel at the amount of erudition compressed within its 
little area; from the nation across the Pacific, which, by half a cen- 
tury of unequaled progress in the arts of life, has made an important 
contribution to evolutionary science through demonstrating the 
falsity of the theory that the most ancient races are doomed to be 
left in the rear of the advancing age in a word, from every great 
centre of intellectual activity on the globe I see before me eminent 
representatives of that world-advance in knowledge which we have 
met to celebrate. May we not confidently hope that the discussions 
of such an assemblage will prove pregnant of a future for science 
which shall outshine even its brilliant past? 

Gentlemen and scholars all'! You do not visit our shores to find 
great collections in which centuries of humanity have given expression 
on canvas and in marble to their hopes, fears, and aspirations. Nor 
do you expect institutions and buildings hoary with age. But as you 
feel the vigor latent in tlie fresh air of these expansive prairies, which 
has collected the products of human genius by which we are here 
surrounded, and, I may add, brought us together; as you study the 
institutions which we have founded for the benefit, not only of our 
own people, but of humanity at large; as you meet the men who, in 


the short space of one century, have transformed this valley from a 
savage wilderness into what it is to-day - - then may you find com- 
pensation for the want of a past like yours by seeing with prophetic 
eye a future world-power of which this region shall be the seat. If such 
is to be the outcome of the institutions which we are now building up, 
then may your present visit be a blessing both to your posterity and 
ours by making that power one for good to all mankind. Your deliber- 
ations will help to demonstrate to us and to the world at large that the 
reign of law must supplant that of brute force in the relations of the 
nations, just as it has supplanted it in the relations of individuals. 
You will help to show that the war which science is now waging 
against the sources of diseases, pain, and misery offers an even nobler 
field for the exercise of heroic qualities than can that of battle. We 
hope that when, after your all too fleeting sojourn in our midst, you 
return to your own shores, you will long feel the influence of the new 
air you have breathed in an infusion of increased vigor in pursuing 
your varied labors. And if a new impetus is thus given to the great 
intellectual movement of the past century, resulting not only in 
promoting the unification of knowledge, but in widening its field 
through new combinations of effort on the part of its votaries, the 
projectors, organizers, and supporters of this Congress of Arts and 
Science will be justified of their labors. 




(Hall 6, September 20, 10 a. m.) 



[Josiah Royce, Professor of History of Philosophy, Harvard University, since 
1892. b. Grass Valley, Nevada County, California, November 20, 1855. 
A.B. University of California, 1875; Ph.D. Johns Hopkins, 1878; LL.D. 
University of Aberdeen, Scotland; LL.D. Johns Hopkins. Instructor in 
English Literature and Logic, University of California, 1878-82. Instruct- 
or and Assistant Professor, Harvard University, 1882-92. Author of Re- 
ligious Aspect of Philosophy; History of California; The Feud of Oak field 
Creek; The Spirit of Modern Philosophy; Studies of Good and Evil; The 
World and the Individual ; Gifford Lectures ; and numerous other works and 

I SHALL not attempt, in this address, either to justify or to criticise 
the name, normative science, under which the doctrines which con- 
stitute this division are grouped. It is enough for my purpose to 
recognize at the outset that I am required, by the plans of this Con- 
gress, to explain what scientific interests seem to me to be common 
to the work of the philosophers and of the mathematicians. The 
task is one which makes severe demands upon the indulgence of the 
listener, and upon the expository powers of the speaker, but it is a 
task for which the present age has well prepared the way. The spirit 
which Descartes and Leibnitz illustrated seems likely soon to become, 
in a new and higher sense, prominent in science. The mathematicians 
are becoming more and more philosophical. The philosophers, in the 
near future, will become, I believe, more and more mathematical. 
It is my office to indicate, as well as the brief time and my poor powers 
may permit, why this ought to be so. 

To this end I shall first point out what is that most general com- 
munity of interest which unites all the sciences that belong to our 
division. Then I shall indicate what type of recent and special 
scientific work most obviously bears upon the tasks of all of us alike. 
Thirdly, I shall state some results and problems to which this type 
of scientific work has given rise, and shall try to show what promise 
we have of an early increase of insight regarding our common interests. 



The most general community of interest which unites the various 
scientific activities that belong to our division is this: We are all 
concerned with what may be called ideal truth, as distinct from 
physical truth. Some of us also have a strong interest in physical 
truth; but none of us lack a notable and scientific concern for the 
realm of ideas, viewed as ideas. 

Let me explain what I mean by these terms. Whoever studies 
physical truth (taking that term in its most general sense) seeks to 
observe, to collate, and, in the end, to control, facts which he regards 
as external to his own thought. But instead of thus looking mainly 
without, it is possible for a man chiefly to take account, let us say, 
of the consequences of his own hypothetical assumptions assump- 
tions which may possess but a very remote relation to the physical 
world. Or again, it is possible for such a student to be mainly de- 
voted to reflecting upon the formal validity of his own inferences, or 
upon the meaning of his own presuppositions, or upon the value and 
the interrelation of human ideals. Any such scientific work, reflective, 
considerate principally of the thinker's own constructions and pur- 
poses, or of the constructions and purposes of humanity in general, 
is a pursuit of ideal truth. The searcher who is mainly devoted to 
the inquiry into what he regards as external facts, is indeed active; 
but his activity is moulded by an order of existence which he conceives 
as complete apart from his activity. He is thoughtful; but a power 
not himself assigns to him the problems about which he thinks. He 
is guided by ideals; but his principal ideal takes the form of an ac- 
ceptance of the world as it is, independently of his ideals. His deal- 
ings are with nature. His aim is the conquest of a foreign realm. 
But the student of what may be called, in general terms, ideal truth, 
while he is devoted as his fellow, the observer of outer nature, to 
the general purpose of being faithful to the verity as he finds it, is 
still aware that his own way of finding, or his own creative activity 
as an inventor of hypotheses, or his own powers of inference, or his 
conscious ideals, constitute in the main the object into which he is 
inquiring, and so form an essential aspect of the sort of verity which 
he is endeavoring to discover. The guide, then, of such a student is, 
in a peculiar sense, his own reason. His goal is the comprehension of 
his own meaning, the conscious and thoughtful conquest of himself. 
His great enemy is not the mystery of outer nature, but the imper- 
fection of his reflective powers. He is, indeed, as unwilling as is any 
scientific worker to trust private caprices. He feels as little as does 
the observer of outer facts, that he is merely noting down, as they 
pass, the chance products of his arbitrary fantasy. For him, as for 
any scientific student, truth is indeed objective; and the standards 


to which he conforms are eternal. But his method is that of an inner 
considerateness rather than of a curiosity about external phenomena. 
His objective world is at the same time an essentially ideal world, 
and the eternal verity in whose light he seeks to live has, throughout 
his undertakings, a peculiarly intimate relation to the purposes of 
his own constructive will. 

One may then sum up the difference of attitude which is here in 
question by saying that, while the student of outer nature is ex- 
plicitly conforming his plans of action, his ideas, his ideals, to an 
order of truth which he takes to be foreign to himself - - the student 
of the other sort of truth, here especially in question, is attempting 
to understand his own plans of action, that is, to develop his ideas, 
or to define his ideals, or else to do both these things. 

Now it is not hard to see that this search for some sort of ideal 
truth is indeed characteristic of every one of the investigations 
which have been grouped together in our division of the normative 
sciences. Pure mathematics shares in common with philosophy 
this type of scientific interest in ideal, as distinct from physical or 
phenomenal truth. There is, to be sure, a marked contrast between 
the ways in which the mathematician and the philosopher approach, 
select, and elaborate their respective sorts of problems. But there 
is also a close relation between the two types of investigation in 
question. Let us next consider both the contrast and the analogy in 
some of their other most general features. 

Pure mathematics is concerned with the investigation of the logical 
consequences of certain exactly stateable postulates or hypotheses 
such, for instance, as the postulates upon which arithmetic and analy- 
sis are founded, or such as the postulates that lie at the basis of any 
type of geometry. For the pure mathematician, the truth of these 
hypotheses or postulates depends, not upon the fact that physical 
nature contains phenomena answering to the postulates, but solely 
upon the fact that the mathematician is able, with rational consist- 
ency, to state these assumed first principles, and to develop their 
consequences. Dedekind, in his famous essay, " Was Sind und Was 
Sollen die Zahlen," called the whole numbers " freie Schopfungen des 
Menschlichen Geistes; " and, in fact, we need not enter into any dis- 
cussion of the psychology of our number concept in order to be able 
to assert that, however we men first came by our conception of the 
whole numbers, for the mathematician the theory of numerical truth 
must appear simply as the logical development of the consequences 
of a few fundamental first principles, such as those which Dedekind 
himself, or Peano, or other recent writers upon this topic, have, in 
various forms, stated. A similar formal freedom marks the develop- 
ment of any other theory in the realm of pure mathematics. Pure 
geometry, from the modern point of view, is neither a doctrine forced 


upon the human mind by the constitution of any primal form of 
intuition, nor yet a branch of physical science, limited to describing 
the spatial arrangement of phenomena in the external world. Pure 
geometry is the theory of the consequences of certain postulates 
which the geometer is at liberty consistently to make; so that there 
are as many types of geometry as there are consistent systems of 
postulates of that generic type of w r hich the geometer takes account. 
As is also now well known, it has long been impossible to define pure 
mathematics as the science of quantity, or to limit the range of the 
exactly stateable hypotheses or postulates with which the mathema- 
tician deals to the world of those objects which, ideally speaking, 
can be viewed as measurable. For the ideally defined measurable 
objects are by no means the only, ones whose properties can be stated 
in the form of exact postulates or hypotheses; and the possible range 
of pure mathematics, if taken in the abstract, and viewed apart from 
any question as to the value of given lines of research, appears to be 
identical with the whole realm of the consequences of exactly state- 
able ideal hypotheses of every type. 

One limitation must, however, be mentioned, to which the asser- 
tion just made is, in practice, obviously subject. And this is, indeed, 
a momentous limitation. The exactly stated ideal hypotheses whose 
consequences the mathematician develops must possess, as is some- 
times said, sufficient intrinsic importance to be worthy of scientific 
treatment. They must not be trivial hypotheses. The mathema- 
tician is not, like the solver of chess problems, merely displaying 
his skill in dealing with the arbitrary fictions of an ideal game. His 
truth is, indeed, ideal; his world is, indeed, treated by his science as 
if this world were the creation of his postulates a " freie Schopfung." 
But he does not thus create for mere sport. On the contrary, he re- 
ports a significant order of truth. As a fact, the ideal systems of the 
pure mathematician are customarily defined with an obvious, even 
though often highly abstract and remote, relation to the structure 
of our ordinary empirical world. Thus the various algebras which 
have been actually developed have, in the main, definite relations 
to the structure of the space world of our physical experience. The 
different systems of ideal geometry, even in all their ideality, still 
cluster, so to speak, about the suggestions which our daily experi- 
ence of space and of matter give us. Yet I suppose that no mathe- 
matician would be disposed, at the present time, to accept any brief 
definition of the degree of closeness or remoteness of relation to or- 
dinary experience which shall serve to distinguish a trivial from 
a genuinely significant branch of mathematical theory. In general, a 
mathematician who is devoted to the theory of functions, or to group 
theory, appears to spend little time in attempting to show why the 
development of the consequences of his postulates is a significant 


enterprise. The concrete mathematical interest of his inquiry sustains 
him in his labors, and wins for him the sympathy of his fellows. To 
the questions, " Why consider the ideal structure of just this system 
of object at all? " " Why study various sorts of numbers, or the 
properties of functions, or of groups, or the system of points in 
projective geometry? " -- the pure mathematician in general, cares 
to reply only, that the topic of his special investigation appears to 
him to possess sufficient mathematical interest. The freedom of his 
science thus justifies his enterprise. Yet, as I just pointed out, this 
freedom is never mere caprice. This ideal interest is not without a 
general relation to the concerns even of common sense. In brief, as 
it seems at once fair to say, the pure mathematician is working under 
the influence of more or less clearly conscious philosophical motives. 
He does not usually attempt to define what distinguishes a signi- 
ficant from a trivial system of postulates, or what constitutes a pro- 
blem worth attacking from the point of view of pure mathematics. 
But he practically recognizes such a distinction between the trivial 
and the significant regions of the world of ideal truth, and since 
philosophy is concerned with the significance of ideas, this recogni- 
tion brings the mathematician near in spirit to the philosopher. 

Such, then, is the position of the pure mathematician. What, by 
way of contrast, is that of the philosopher? We may reply that to 
state the formal consequences of exact assumptions is one thing; to 
reflect upon the mutual relations, and the whole significance of such 
assumptions, does indeed involve other interests; and these other 
interests are the ones which directly carry us over to the realm of 
philosophy. If the theory of numbers belongs to pure mathematics, 
the study of the place of the number concept in the system of 
human ideas belongs to philosophy. Like the mathematician, the 
philosopher deals directly with a realm of ideal truth. But to unify 
our knowledge, to comprehend its sources, its meaning, and its re- 
lations to the whole of human life, these aims constitute the proper 
goal of the philosopher. In order, however, to accomplish his aims, 
the philosopher must, indeed, take account of the results of the 
special physical science; but he must also turn from the world of 
outer phenomena to an ideal world. For the unity of things is never, 
for us mortals, anything that we find given in our experience. You 
cannot see the unity of knowledge; you cannot describe it as a phe- 
nomenon. It is for us now, an ideal. And precisely so, the mean- 
ing of things, the relation of knowledge to life, the significance of 
our ideals, their bearing upon one another --these are never, for us 
men, phenomenally present data. Hence the philosopher, however 
much he ought, as indeed he ought, to take account of phenomena, 
and of the results of the special physical sciences, is quite as deeply 
interested in his own way, as the mathematician is interested in his 


way, in the consideration of an ideal realm. Only, unlike the mathe- 
matician, the philosopher does not first abstract from the empirical 
suggestions upon which his exact ideas are actually based, and then 
content himself merely with developing the logical consequences of 
these ideas. On the contrary, his main interest is not in any idea or 
fact in so far as it is viewed by itself, but rather in the interrelations, 
in the common significance, in the unity, of all fundamental ideas, 
and in their relations both to the phenomenal facts and to life! On 
the whole, he, therefore, neither consents, like the student of a special 
science of experience, to seek his freedom solely through conformity 
to the phenomena which are 'to be described; nor is he content, like 
the pure mathematician, to win his truth solely through the exact 
definition of the formal consequences of his freely defined hypotheses. 
He is making an effort to discover the sense and the unity of the 
business of his own life. 

It is no part of my purpose to attempt to show here how this gen- 
eral philosophical interest differentiates into the various interests of 
metaphysics, of the philosophy of religion, of ethics, of aesthetics, 
of logic. Enough - - I have tried to illustrate how, while both the 
philosopher and the mathematician have an interest in the meaning 
of ideas rather than in the description of external facts, still there 
is a contrast which does, indeed, keep their work in large measure 
asunder, namely, the contrast due to the fact that the mathematician 
is directly concerned with developing the consequences of certain 
freely assumed systems of postulates or hypotheses; while the philo- 
sopher is interested in the significance, in the unity, and in the re- 
lation to life, of all the fundamental ideals and postulates of the 
human mind. 

Yet not even thus do we sufficiently state how closely related 
the two tasks are. For this very contrast, as we have also suggested, 
is, even within its own limits, no final or perfectly sharp contrast. 
There is a deep analogy between the two tasks. For the mathema- 
tician, as we have just seen, is not evenly interested in developing 
the consequences of any and every system of freely assumed pos- 
tulates. He is no mere solver of arbitrary ideal puzzles in general. 
His systems of postulates are so chosen as to be not trivial, but sig- 
nificant. They are, therefore, in fact, but abstractly defined aspects 
of the very system of eternal truth whose expression is the universe. 
In this sense the mathematician is as genuinely interested as is the 
philosopher in the significant use of his scientific freedom. On the 
other hand, the philosopher, in reflecting upon the significance and 
the unity of fundamental ideas, can only do so with success in case 
he makes due inquiry into the logical consequences of given ideas. 
And this he can accomplish only if, upon occasion, he employs the 
exact methods of the mathematician, and develops his systems of 


ideal truth with the precision of which only mathematical research 
is capable. As a fact, then, the mathematician and the philosopher 
deal with ideal truth in ways which are not only contrasted, but 
profoundly interconnected. The mathematician, in so far as he con- 
sciously distinguishes significant from trivial problems, and ideal 
systems, is a philosopher. The philosopher, in so far as he seeks 
exactness of logical method, in his reflection, must meanwhile aim 
to be, within his own limits, a mathematician. He, indeed, will not 
in future, like Spinoza, seek to reduce philosophy to the mere develop- 
ment, in mathematical form, of the consequences of certain arbitrary 
hypotheses. He will distinguish between a reflection upon the unity 
of the system of truth and an abstract development of this or that 
selected aspect of the system. But he will see more and more that, 
in so far as he undertakes to be exact, he must aim to become, in 
his own way, and with due regard to his own purposes, mathemat- 
ical; and thus the union of mathematical and philosophical inquiries, 
in the future, will tend to become closer and closer. 


So far, then, I have dwelt upon extremely general considerations 
relating to the unity and the contrast of mathematical and philo- 
sophical inquiries. I can well conceive, however, that the individual 
worker in any one of the numerous branches of investigation which 
are represented by the body of students whom I am privileged to 
address, may at this point mentally interpose the objection that all 
these considerations are, indeed, far too general to be of practical 
interest to any of us. Of course, all we who study these so-called 
normative sciences are, indeed, interested in ideas, for their own 
sakes in ideas so distinct from, although of course also somehow 
related to, phenomena. Of course, some of us are rather devoted to 
the development of the consequences of exactly stated ideal hypo- 
theses, and others to reflecting as we can upon what certain ideas and 
ideals are good for, and upon what the unity is of all ideas and ideals. 
Of course, if we are wdse enough to do so, we have much to learn 
from one another. But, you will say, the assertion of all these things 
is a commonplace. The expression of the desire for further mutual 
cooperation is a pious wish. You will insist upon asking further: 
" Is there just now any concrete instance in a modern type of research 
which furnishes results such as are of interest to all of us? Are 
we actually doing any productive work in common? Are the philo- 
sophers contributing anything to human knowledge which has a 
genuine bearing upon the interests of mathematical science? Are 
the mathematicians contributing anything to philosophy?" 

These questions are perfectly fair. Moreover, as it happens, they 


can be distinctly answered in the affirmative. The present age is one 
of a rapid advance in the actual unification of the fields of investi- 
gation which are included within the scope of this present division. 
What little time remains to me must be devoted to indicating, as 
well as I can, in what sense this is true. I shall have still to deal 
in very broad generalities. I shall try to make these generalities 
definite enough to be not wholly unfruitful. 

We have already emphasized one question which may be said to 
interest, in a very direct way, both the mathematician and the 
philosopher. The ideal postulates, whose consequences mathemat- 
ical science undertakes to develop, must be, we have said, significant 
postulates, involving ideas whose exact definition and exposition 
repay the labor of scientific scrutiny. Number, space, continuity, 
functional correspondence or dependence, group-structure these 
are examples of such significant ideas; the postulates or ideal 
assumptions upon which the theory of such ideas depends are signi- 
ficant postulates, and are not the mere conventions of an arbitrary 
game. But now what constitutes the significance of an idea, or 
of an abstract mathematical theory? What gives an idea a worthy 
place in the whole scheme of human ideas? Is it the possibility of 
finding a physical application for a mathematical theory which 
for us decides what is the value of the theory? No, the theory of 
functions, the theory of numbers, group theory, have a significance 
which no mathematician would consent to measure in terms of the 
present applicability or non-applicability of these theories in physical 
science? In vain, then, does one attempt to use the test of applied 
mathematics as the main criticism of the value of a theory of pure 
mathematics. The value of an idea, for the sciences which con- 
stitute our division, is dependent upon the place which this idea 
occupies in the whole organized scheme or system of human ideas. 
The idea of number, for instance, familiar as its applications are, 
does not derive its main value from the fact that eggs and dollars 
and star-clusters can be counted, but rather from the fact that the 
idea of numbers has those relations to other fundamental ideas 
which recent logical theory has made prominent relations, for 
instance, to the concept of order, to the theory of classes or collec- 
tions of objects viewed in general, and to the metaphysical concept 
of the self. Relations of this sort, which the discussions of the num- 
ber concept by Dedekind, Cantor, Peano, and Russell have recently 
brought to light such relations, I say, constitute what truly justi- 
fied Gauss in calling the theory of numbers a "divine science." As 
against such deeper relations, the countless applications of the 
number concept in ordinary life, and in science, are, from the truly 
philosophical point of view, of comparatively small moment. What 
we want, in the work of our division of the sciences, is to bring to 


light the unity of truth, either, as in mathematics, by developing 
systems of truth which are significant by virtue of their actual rela- 
tions to this unity, or, as in philosophy, by explicitly seeking the 
central idea about which all the many ideas cluster. 

Now, an ancient and fundamental problem for the philosophers 
is that which has been called the problem of the categories. This 
problem of the categories is simply the more formal aspect of the 
whole philosophical problem just defined. The philosopher aims to 
comprehend the unity of the system of human ideas and ideals. Well, 
then, what are the primal ideas? Upon what group of concepts do 
the other concepts of human science logically depend? About what 
central interests is the system of human ideals clustered? In ancient 
thought Aristotle already approached this problem in one way. 
Kant, in the eighteenth century, dealt with it in another. We stu- 
dents of philosophy are accustomed to regret what we call the ex- 
cessive formalism of Kant, to lament that Kant was so much the 
slave of his own relatively superficial and accidental table of catego- 
ries, and that he made the treatment of every sort of philosophical 
problem turn upon his own schematism. Yet we cannot doubt that 
Kant was right in maintaining that philosophy needs, for the suc- 
cessful development of every one of its departments, a well-devised 
and substantially complete system of categories. Our objection to 
Kant's over-confidence in the virtues of his own schematism is due 
to the fact that we do not now accept his table of categories as an 
adequate view of the fundamental concepts. The efforts of philo- 
sophers since Kant have been repeatedly devoted to the task of 
replacing his scheme of categories by a more adequate one. I am 
far from regarding these purely philosophical efforts made since 
Kant as fruitless, but they have remained, so far, very incomplete, 
and they have been held back from their due fullness of success by 
the lack of a sufficiently careful survey and analysis of the processes 
of thought as these have come to be embodied in the living sciences. 
Such concepts as number, quantity, space, time, cause, continuity, 
have been dealt with by the pure philosophers far too summarily 
and superficially. A more thoroughgoing analysis has been needed. 
But now, in comparatively recent times, there has developed a re- 
gion of inquiry which one may call by the general name of modern 
logic. To the constitution of this new region of inquiry men have 
principally contributed who began as mathematicians, but who, in 
the course of their work, have been led to become more and more 
philosophers. Of late, however, various philosophers, who were 
originally in no sense mathematicians, becoming aware of the im- 
portance of the new type of research, are in their turn attempting 
both to assimilate and to supplement the undertakings which were 
begun from the mathematical side. As a result, the logical problem 


of the categories has to-day become almost equally a problem for 
the logicians of mathematics and for those students of philosophy 
who take any serious interest in exactness of method in their own 
branch of work. The result of this actual cooperation of men from 
both sides is that, as I think, we are to-day, for the first time, in 
sight of what is still, as I freely admit, a somewhat distant goal, 
namely, the relatively complete rational analysis and tabulation of 
the fundamental categories of human thought. That the student of 
ethics is as much interested in such an investigation as is the meta- 
physician, that the philosopher of religion needs a well-completed 
table of categories quite as much as does the pure logician, every 
competent student of such topics ought to admit. And that the 
enterprise in question keenly interests the mathematicians is shown 
by the prominent part which some of them have taken in the re- 
searches in question. Here, then, is the type of recent scientific work 
whose results most obviously bear upon the tasks of all of 'us alike. 
A catalogue of the names of the workers in this wide field of 
modern logic would be out of place here. Yet one must, indeed, 
indicate what lines of research are especially in question. From the 
purely mathematical side, the investigations of the type to which I 
now refer may be viewed (somewhat arbitrarily) as beginning with 
that famous examination into one of the postulates of Euclid's 
geometry which gave rise to the so-called non-Euclidean geometry. 
The question here originally at issue was one of a comparatively 
limited scope, namely, the question whether Euclid's parallel-line 
postulate was a logical consequence of the other geometrical prin- 
ciples. But the investigation rapidly develops into a general study 
of the foundations of geometry a study to which contributions 
are still almost constantly appearing. Somewhat independently 
of this line of inquiry there grew up, during the latter half of the 
nineteenth century, that reexamination of the bases of arithmetic 
and analysis which is associated with the names of Dedekind, Weier- 
strass, and George Cantor. At the present time, the labors of a num- 
ber of other inquirers (amongst whom we may mention the school 
of Peano and Fieri in Italy, and men such as Poincare and Couturat 
in France, Hilbert in Germany, Bertrand Russell and Whitehead in 
England, and an energetic group of our American mathematicians 
men such as Professor Moore, Professor Halsted, Dr. Hunting- 
ton, Dr. Veblen, and a considerable number of others) have been 
added to the earlier researches. The result is that we have recently 
come for the first time to be able to see, with some completeness, 
what the assumed first principles of pure mathematics actually are. 
As was to be expected, these principles are capable of more than 
one formulation, according as they are approached from one side or 
from another. As was also to be expected, the entire edifice of pure 


mathematics, so far as it has yet been erected, actually rests upon 
a very few fundamental concepts and postulates, however you may 
formulate them. What was not observed, however, by the earlier, 
and especially by the philosophical, students of the categories, is 
the form which these postulates tend to assume when they are 
rigidly analyzed. 

This form depends upon the precise definition and classification 
of certain types of relations. The whole of geometry, for instance, 
including metrical geometry, can be developed from a set of postu- 
lates which demand the existence of points that stand in certain 
ordinal relationships. The ordinal relationships can be reduced, 
according as the series of points considered is open or closed, either 
to the well-known relationship in which three points stand when 
one is between the other two upon a right line, or else to the ordinal 
relationship in which four points stand when they are separated by 
pairs; and these two ordinal relationships, by means of various log- 
ical devices, can be regarded as variations of a single fundamental 
form. Cayley and Klein founded the logical theory of geometry here 
in question. Russell, and in another way Dr. Veblen, have given 
it its most recent expressions. In the same way, the theory of whole 
numbers can be reduced to sets of principles which demand the exist- 
ence of certain ideal objects in certain simple ordinal relations. Dede- 
kind and Peano have worked out such ordinal theories of the num- 
ber concept. In another development of the theory of the cardinal 
whole numbers, which Russell and Whitehead have worked out, 
ordinal concepts are introduced only secondarily, and the theory 
depends upon the fundamental relation of the equivalence or non- 
equivalence of collections of objects. But here also a certain simple 
type of relation determines the definitions and the development of 
the whole theory. 

Two results follow from such a fashion of logically analyzing the 
first principles of mathematical science. In the first place, as just 
pointed out, we learn how few and simple are the conceptions and pos- 
tulates upon which the actual edifice of exact science rests. Pure 
mathematics, we have said, is free to assume what it chooses. Yet 
the assumptions whose presence as the foundation principles of the 
actually existent pure mathematics an exhaustive examination thus 
reveals, show by their fewness that the ideal freedom of the mathe- 
matician to assume and to construct what he pleases, is indeed, in 
practice, a very decidedly limited freedom. The limitation is, as we 
have already seen, a limitation which has to do with the essential 
significance of the fundamental concepts in question. And so the 
result of this analysis of the bases of the actually developed and 
significant branches of mathematics, constitutes a sort of empirical 
revelation of what categories the exact sciences have practically 


found to be of such significance as to be worthy of exhaustive treat- 
ment. Thus the instinctive sense for significant truth, which has all 
along been guiding the development of mathematics, comes at least 
to a clear and philosophical consciousness. And meanwhile the es- 
sential categories of thought are seen in a new light. 

The second result still more directly concerns a philosophical logic. 
It is this: Since the few types of relations which this sort of ana- 
lysis reveals as the fundamental ones in exact science are of such 
importance, the logic of the present day is especially required to face 
the questions : What is the nature of our concept of relations ? What 
are the various possible types of relations? Upon what does the 
variety of these types depend? What unity lies beneath the variety? 

As a fact, logic, in its modern forms, namely, first that symbolic 
logic which Boole first formulated, which Mr. Charles S. Peirce and 
his pupils have in this country already so highly developed, and 
which Schroeder in Germany, Peano's school in Italy, and a num- 
ber of recent English writers have so effectively furthered and 
secondly, the logic of scientific method, which is now so actively 
pursued, in France, in Germany, and in the English-speaking coun- 
tries -- this whole movement in modern logic, as I hold, is rapidly 
approaching new solutions of the problem of the fundamental nature 
and the logic of relations. The problem is one in which we are all 
equally interested. To De Morgan in England, in an earlier genera- 
tion, and, in our time, to Charles Peirce in this country, very im- 
portant stages in the growth of these problems are due. Russell, in 
his work on the Principles of Mathematics has very lately under- 
taken to sum up the results of the logic of relations, as thus far 
developed, and to add his own interpretations. Yet I think that 
Russell has failed to get as near to the foundations of the theory 
of relations as the present state of the discussion permits. For 
Russell has failed to take account of what I hold to be the most 
fundamentally important generalization yet reached in the general 
theory of relations. This is the generalization set forth as early as 
1890, by Mr. A. B. Kempe, of London, in a pair of wonderful but 
too much neglected, papers, entitled, respectively, The Theory of 
Mathematical Form, and The Analogy between the Logical Theory 
of Classes and the Geometrical Theory of Points. A mere hint first 
as to the more precise formulation of the problem at issue, and then 
later as to Kempe's special contribution to that problem, may be in 
order here, despite the impossibility of any adequate statement. 


The two most obviously and universally important kinds of rela- 
tions known to the exact sciences, as these sciences at present exist, 
are: (1) The relations of the type of equality or equivalence; and 


(2) the relations of the type of before and after, or greater and less. 
The first of these two classes of relations, namely, the class repre- 
sented, although by no means exhausted, by the various relations 
actually called, in different branches of science by the one name 
equality, this class I say, might well be named, as I myself have 
proposed, the leveling relations. A collection of objects between 
any two of which some one relation of this type holds, may be said 
to be a collection whose members, in some defined sense or other, 
are on the same level. The second of these two classes of relations, 
namely, those of the type of before and after, or greater and less 
this class of relations, I say, consists of what are nowadays often 
called the serial relations. And a collection of objects such that, if 
any pair of these objects be chosen, a determinate one of this pair 
stands to the other one of the same pair in some determinate rela- 
tion of this second type, and in a relation which remains constant 
for all the pairs that can be thus formed out of the members of this 
collection - - any such collection, I say, constitutes a one-dimen- 
sional open series. Thus, in case of a file of men, if you choose any 
pair of men belonging to the file, a determinate one of them is, in the 
file, before the other. In the number series, of any two numbers, 
a determinate one is greater than the other. Wherever such a state 
of affairs exists, one has a series. 

Now these two classes of relations, the leveling relations and the 
serial relations, agree with one another, and differ from one another 
in very momentous ways. They agree with one another in that both 
the leveling and the serial relations are what is technically called 
transitive; that is, both classes conform to what Professor James 
has called the law of "skipped intermediaries." Thus, if A is equal 
to B, and B is equal to C, it follows that A is equal to C. If A is 
before B, and B is before C, then A is before C. And this property, 
which enables you in your reasonings about these relations to skip 
middle terms, and so to perform some operation of elimination, is 
the property which is meant when one calls relations of this type 
transitive. But, on the other hand, these two classes of relations 
differ from each other in that the leveling relations are, while the 
serial relations are not, symmetrical or reciprocal. Thus, if A is equal 
to B, .0Hs equal to A. But if X is greater than Y, then Y is not 
greater than X, but less than X. So the leveling relations are sym- 
metrical transitive relations. But the serial relations are transitive 
relations which are not symmetrical. 

All this is now well known. It is notable, however, that nearly 
all the processes of our exact sciences, as at present developed, 
can be said to be essentially such as lead either to the placing of sets 
or classes of objects on the same level, by means of the use of sym- 
metrical transitive relations, or else to the arranging of objects in 


orderly rows or series, by means of the use of transitive relations 
which are not symmetrical. This holds also of all the applications 
of the exact sciences. Whatever else you do in science (or, for that 
matter, in art), you always lead, in the end, either to the arrang- 
ing of objects, or of ideas, or of acts, or of movements, in rows or 
series, or else to the placing of objects or ideas of some sort on the 
same level, by virtue of some equivalence, or of some invariant 
character. Thus numbers, functions, lines in geometry, give you 
examples of serial relations. Equations in mathematics are classic 
instances of leveling relations. So, of course, are invariants. Thus, 
again, the whole modern theory of energy consists of two parts, 
one of which has to do with levels of energy, in so far as the quan- 
tity of energy of a closed system remains invariant through all the 
transformations of the system, while the other part has to do with 
the irreversible serial order of the transformations of energy them- 
selves, which follow a set of unsymmetrical relations, in so far as 
energy tends to fall from higher to lower levels of intensity within 
the same sj^stem. 

The entire conceivable universe then, and all of our present exact 
science, can be viewed, if you choose, as a collection of objects or 
of ideas that, whatever other types of relations may exist, are at 
least largely characterized either by the leveling relations, or by 
the serial relations, or by complexes of both sorts of relations. Here, 
then, we are plainly dealing with very fundamental categories. 
The "between" relations of geometry can of course be defined, if 
you choose, in terms of transitive relations that are not symmet- 
rical. There are, to be sure, some other relations present in exact 
science, but the two types, the serial and leveling relations, are 
especially notable. 

So far the modern logicians have for some time been in substan- 
tial agreement. Russell's brilliant book is a development of the 
logic of mathematics very largely in terms of the two types of rela- 
tions which, in my own way, I have just characterized; although 
Russell gives due regard, of course, to certain other types of rela- 

But hereupon the question arises, "Are these two types of rela- 
tions what Russell holds them to be, namely, ultimate and irre- 
ducible logical facts, unanalyzable categories mere data for the 
thinker? Or can we reduce them still further, and thus simplify 
yet again our view of the categories? 

Here is where Kempe's generalization begins to come into sight. 
These two categories, in at least one very fundamental realm of 
exact thought, can be reduced to one. There is, namely, a world 
of ideal objects which especially interest the logician. It is the 
world of a totality of possible logical classes, or again, it is the ideal 


world, equivalent in formal structure to the foregoing, but composed 
of a totality of possible statements, or thirdly, it is the world, equiva- 
lent once more, in formal structure, to the foregoing, but consisting 
of a totality of possible acts of mil, of possible decisions. When we 
proceed to consider the relational structure of such a world, taken 
merely in the abstract as such a structure, a relation comes into 
sight which at once appears to be peculiarly general in its nature. 
It is the so-called illative relation, the relation which obtains between 
two classes when one is subsumed under the other, or between two 
statements, or two decisions, when one implies or entails the other. 
This relation is transitive, but may be either symmetrical or not 
symmetrical; so that, according as it is symmetrical or not, it may 
be used either to establish levels or to generate series. In the order 
system of the logician's world, the relational structure is thus, in 
any case, a highly general and fundamental one. 

But this is not all. In this the logician's world of classes, or of 
statements, or of decisions, there is also another relation observable. 
This is the relation of exclusion or mutual opposition. This is a 
purely symmetrical or reciprocal relation. It has two forms - 
obverse or contradictory opposition, that is, negation proper, and 
contrary opposition. But both these forms are purely symmetrical. 
And by proper devices each of them can be stated in terms of the 
other, or reduced to the other. And further, as Kempe incidentally 
shows, and as Mrs. Ladd Franklin has also substantially shown in 
her important theory of the syllogism, it is possible to state every 
proposition, or complex of propositions involving the illative relation, 
in terms of this purely symmetrical relation of opposition. Hence, 
so far as mere relational form is concerned, the illative relation itself 
may be wholly reduced to the symmetrical relation of opposition. 
This is our first result as to the relational structure of the realm of 
pure logic, that is, the realm of classes, of statements, or of deci- 

It follows that, in describing the logician's world of possible classes 
or of possible decisions, all unsymmetrical, and so all serial, relations 
can be stated solely in terms of symmetrical relations, and can be entirely 
reduced to such relations. Moreover, as Kempe has also very prettily 
shown, the relation of opposition, in its two forms, just mentioned, 
need not be interpreted as obtaining merely between pairs of objects. 
It may and does obtain between triads, tetrads, n-ads of logical en- 
tities; and so all that is true of the relations of logical classes may 
consequently be stated merely by ascribing certain perfectly sym- 
metrical and homogeneous predicates to pairs, triads, tetrads, n-ads 
of logical objects. The essential contrast between symmetrical 
and unsymmetrical relations thus, in this ideal realm of the logi- 
cian, simply vanishes. The categories of the logician's world of 


classes, of statements, or of decisions, are marvelously simple. All 
the relations present may be viewed as variations of the mere con- 
ception of opposition as distinct from non-opposition. 

All this holds, of course, so far, merely for the logician's world of 
classes or of decisions. There, at least, all serial order can actually 
be derived from wholly symmetrical relations. But Kempe now 
very beautifully shows (and here lies his great and original contri- 
bution to our topic) - - he shows, I say, that the ordinal relations 
of geometry, as well as of the number-system, can all be regarded 
as indistinguishable from mere variations of those relations which, 
in pure logic, one finds to be the symmetrical relations obtaining within 
pairs or triads of classes or of statements. The formal identity of the 
geometrical relation called "between" with a purely logical relation 
which one can define as existing or as not existing amongst the mem- 
bers of a given triad of logical classes, or of logical statements, is 
shown by Kempe in a fashion that I cannot here attempt to expound. 
But Kempe's result thus enables one, as I believe, to simplify the 
theory of relations far beyond the point which Russell in his brilliant 
book has reached. For Kempe's triadic relation in question can be 
stated, in what he calls its obverse form, in perfectly symmetrical 
terms. And he proves very exactly that the resulting logical rela- 
tion is precisely identical, in all its properties, with the fundamental 
ordinal relation of geometry. 

Thus the order-systems of geometry and analysis appear simply 
as special cases of the more general order-system of pure logic. The 
whole, both of analysis and of geometry, can be regarded as a de- 
scription of certain selected groups of entities, which are chosen, 
according to special rules, from a single ideal world. This general 
and inclusive ideal world consists simply of all the objects which can 
stand to one another in those symmetrical relations wherein the pure lo- 
gician finds various statements, or various decisions inevitably standing. 
"Let me," says in substance Kempe, "choose from the logician's 
ideal world of classes or decisions, what entities I will; and I will 
show you a collection of objects that are in their relational structure, 
precisely identical with the points of a geometer's space of n dimen- 
sions." In other words, all of the geometer's figures and relations can 
be precisely pictured by the relational structure of a selected system 
of classes or of statements, whose relations are wholly and explicitly 
logical relations, such as opposition, and whose relations may all 
be regarded, accordingly, as reducible to a single type of purely 
symmetrical relation. 

Thus, for all exact science, and not merely for the logician's special 
realm, the contrast between symmetrical and unsymmetrical rela- 
tions proves to be, after all, superficial and derived. The purely 
logical categories, such as opposition, and such as hold within the 


calculus of statements, are, apparently, the basal categories of all 
the exact science that has yet been developed. Series and levels are 
relational structures that, sharply as they are contrasted, can be 
derived from a single root. 

I have restated Kempe's generalization in my own way. I think 
it the most promising step towards new light as to the categories 
that we have made for some generations. 

In the field of modern logic, I say, then, work is doing which is 
rapidly tending towards the unification of the tasks of our entire 
division. For this problem of the categories, in all its abstractness, 
is still a common problem for all of us. Do you ask, however, what 
such researches can do to furnish more special aid to the workers 
in metaphysics, in the philosophy of religion, in ethics, or in aesthetics, 
beyond merely helping towards the formulation of a table of cate- 
gories - - then I reply that we are already not without evidence that 
such general researches, abstract though they may seem, are bear- 
ing fruits which have much more than a merely special interest. 
Apart from its most general problems, that analysis of mathemat- 
ical concepts to which I have referred has in any case revealed 
numerous unexpected connections between departments of thought 
which had seemed to be very widely sundered. One instance of such 
a connection I myself have elsewhere discussed at length, in its gen- 
eral metaphysical bearings. I refer to the logical identity which 
Dedekind first pointed out between the mathematical concept of 
the ordinal number of series and the philosophical concept of the 
formal structure of an ideally completed self. I have maintained 
that this formal identity throws light upon problems which have as 
genuine an interest for the student of the philosophy of religion as 
for the logician of arithmetic. In the same connection it may be 
remarked that, as Couturat and Russell, amongst other writers, 
have very clearly and beautifully shown, the argument of the Kant- 
ian mathematical antinomies needs to be explicitly and totally 
revised in the light of Cantor's modern theory of infinite collections. 
To pass at once to another, and a very different instance : The mod- 
ern mathematical conceptions of what is called group theory have 
already received very wide and significant applications, and promise 
to bring into unity regions of research which, until recently, appeared 
to have little or nothing to do with one another. Quite lately, how- 
ever, there are signs that group theory will soon prove to be of im- 
portance for the definition of some of the fundamental concepts of 
that most refractory branch of philosophical inquiry, sesthetics. Dr. 
Emch, in an important paper in the Monist, called attention, some 
time since, to the symmetry groups to which certain aesthetically 
pleasing forms belong, and endeavored to point out the empirical 
relations between these groups and the aesthetic effects in question . 


The grounds for such a connection between the groups in question 
and the observed aesthetic effects, seemed, in the paper of Dr. Emch 
to be left largely in the dark. But certain papers recently published 
in the country by Miss Ethel Puffer, bearing upon the psychology 
of the beautiful (although the author has approached the subject 
without being in the least consciously influenced, as I understand, 
by the conceptions of the mathematical group theory), still actually 
lead, if I correctly grasp the writer's meaning, to the doctrine that 
the aesthetic object, viewed as a psychological whole, must possess 
a structure closely, if not precisely, equivalent to the ideal structure 
of what the mathematician calls a group. I myself have no authority 
regarding aesthetic concepts, and speak subject to correction. But 
the unexpected, and in case of Miss Puffer's research, quite unin- 
tended, appearance of group theory in recent aesthetic analysis is to 
me an impressive instance of the use of relatively new mathematical 
conceptions in philosophical regions which seem, at first sight, very 
remote from mathematics. 

That both the group concept and the concept of the self just sug- 
gested are sure to have also a wide application in the ethics of the 
future, I am myself well convinced. In fact, no branch of philosophy is 
without close relations to all such studies of fundamental categories. 

These are but hints and examples. They suffice, I hope, to show 
that the workers in this division have deep common interests, and 
will do well, in future, to study the arts of cooperation, and to regard 
one another's progress with a watchful and cordial sympathy. In a 
word: Our common problem is the theory of the categories. That 
problem can be solved only by the cooperation of the mathema- 
ticians and of the philosophers. 



(Hall 6, September 20, 11.15 a. m.) 


IN opening the Department of Philosophy, the Chairman, Pro- 
fessor Borden P. Bowne, LL.D., of Boston University, made an 
interesting address on the Philosophical Outlook. Professor Bowne 
said in part : - 

I congratulate the members of the Philosophical Section on the improved out- 
look in philosophy. In the generation just passed, philosophy was somewhat at 
a discount. The great and rapid development of physical science and invention, 
together with the profound changes in biological thought, produced for a time a 
kind of chaos. New facts were showered upon us in great abundance, and we had 
no adequate philosophical preparation for dealing with them. Such a condition is 
always disturbing. The old mental equilibrium is overthrown and readjustment 
is a slow process. Besides, the shallow sense philosophy of that time readily lent 
itself to mechanical and materialistic interpretations, and for a while it seemed 
as if all the higher faiths of humanity were permanently discredited. All this has 
passed away. Philosophical criticism began its work and the nai've dogmatism of 
materialistic naturalism was soon disposed of. It quickly appeared that our trouble 
was not due to the new facts, but to the superficial philosophy by which they had 
been interpreted. Now that we have a better philosophy, we have come to live in 
perfect peace with the facts once thought disturbing, and even to welcome them as 
valuable additions to knowledge. . . . 

The brief naturalistic episode was not without instruction for us. It showed 
conclusively the great practical importance of philosophy. Had we had thirty 
years ago the current philosophical insight, the great development of the physical 
and biological sciences would have made no disturbance whatever. But being 
interpreted by a crude scheme of thought, it produced somewhat of a storm. 
Philosophy may not contribute much of positive value, but it certainly has an 
important negative function in the way of suppressing pretentious dogmatism 
and fictitious knowledge, which often lead men astray. It is these things which 
produce conflicts of science and religion or which find in evolution the solvent of 
all mysteries and the source of all knowledge. 

Concerning the partition of territory between science and philosophy, there 
are two distinct questions respecting the facts of experience. First, we need to 
know the facts in their temporal and spatial order, and the way they hang together 
in a system of law. To get this knowledge is the function of science, and in this 
work science has inalienable rights and a most important practical function. This 
work cannot be done by speculation nor interfered with by authority of any kind. 
It is not surprising, then, that scientists in their sense of contact with reality 


should be indignant with, or feel contempt for, any who seek to limit or proscribe 
their research. But supposing this work all done, there remains another question 
respecting the causality and interpretation of the facts. This question belongs to 
philosophy. Science describes and registers the facts with their temporal and 
spatial laws; philosophy studies their causality and significance. And while the 
scientist justly ignores the philosopher who interferes with his inquiries, so the 
philosopher may justly reproach the scientist who fails to see that the scientific 
question does not touch the philosophic one. . . . 

In the field of metaphysics proper I note a strong tendency toward personal 
idealism, or as it might be called, Personalism; that is, the doctrine that sub- 
stantial reality can be conceived only under the personal form and that all else is 
phenomenal. This is quite distinct from the traditional idealisms of mere concep- 
tionism. It holds the essential fact to be a community of persons with a Supreme 
Person at their head while the phenomenal world is only expression and means 
of communication. And to this view we are led by the failure of philosophizing on 
the impersonal plane, which is sure to lose itself in contradiction and impossi- 
bility. Under the form of mechanical naturalism, with its tendencies to mate- 
rialism and atheism, impersonalism has once more been judged and found want- 
ing. We are not likely to have a recurrence of this view unless there be a return 
to philosophical barbarism. But impersonalism at the opposite pole in the form 
of abstract categories of being, causality, unity, identity, continuity, sufficient 
reason, etc., is equally untenable. Criticism shows that these categories when 
abstractly and impersonally taken cancel themselves. On the impersonal plane we 
can never reach unity from plurality, or plurality from unity; and we can never 
find change in identity, or identity in change. Continuity in time becomes mere 
succession without the notion of potentiality, and this in turn is empty. Exist- 
ence itself is dispersed into nothingness through the infinite divisibility of space 
and time, while the law of the sufficient reason loses itself in barren tautology and 
the infinite regress. The necessary logical equivalence of cause and effect in any 
impersonal scheme makes all real explanation and progress impossible, and shuts 
us up to an unintelligible oscillation between potentiality and actuality, to which 
there is no corresponding thought. . . . 

Philosophy is still militant and has much work before it, but the omens are 
auspicious, the problems are better understood, and we are coming to a synthesis 
of the results of past generations of thinking which will be a very distinct progress. 
Philosophy has already done good service, and never better than in recent times, 
by destroying pretended knowledge and making room for the higher faiths of 
humanity. It has also done good service in helping these faiths to better rational 
form, and thus securing them against the defilements of superstition and the 
cavilings of hostile critics. With all its aberrations and shortcomings, philosophy 
deserves well of humanity. 





[George Holmes Howison, Mills Professor of Intellectual and Moral Philo- 
sophy and Civil Polity, University of California, b. Montgomery County, 
Maryland, 1834. A.B. Marietta College, 1852 ; M.A. 1855 ; LL.D. ibid. 
1883. Post-graduate, Lane Theological Seminary, University of Berlin, 
and Oxford. Headmaster High School, Salem, Mass., 1862-64; Assistant 
Professor of Mathematics, Washington University, St. Louis, 1864-66; Tile- 
ston Professor of Political Economy, ibid. 1866-69; Professor of Logic and 
the Philosophy of Science, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1871-79; 
Lecturer on Ethics, Harvard University, 1879-80; Lecturer on Logic and 
Speculative Philosophy, University of Michigan, 1883-84. Member and vice- 
president St. Louis Philosophical Society; member California Historical 
Society; American Historical Association; American Association for the 
Advancement of Science ; National Geographic Society, etc. Author of 
Treatise on Analytic Geometry, 1869; The Limits of Evolution, 1901, 2d edi- 
tion, 1904; joint author and editor of The Conception of God, 1897, etc. Editor 
Philosophical Publications of University of California; American Editorial 
Representative Hibbert Journal, London.] 

THE duty has been assigned me, honored colleagues, of address- 
ing you on the Fundamental Conceptions and the Methods of our 
common pursuit - - philosophy. In endeavoring to deal with the 
subject in a way not unworthy of its depth and its extent, I have 
found it impossible to bring the essential material within less com- 
pass than would occupy, in reading, at least four times the period 
granted by our programme. I have therefore complied with the rule 
of the Congress which directs that, if a more extended writing be 
left with the authorities for publication, the reading must be re- 
stricted to such a portion of it as will not exceed the allotted time. 
I will accordingly read to you, first, a brief summary of my entire 
discussion, by way of introduction, and then an excerpt from the 
larger document, which may serve for a specimen, as our scholastic 
predecessors used to say, of the whole inquiry I have carried out. 
The impression will, of course, be fragmentary, and I must ask 
beforehand for your most benevolent allowances, to prevent a judg- 
ment too unfavorable. 

The discussion naturally falls into two main parts: the first 
dealing with the Fundamental Conceptions; and the second, with 
the Methods. 

In the former, after presenting the conception of philosophy 
itself, as the consideration of things in the light of the ivhole, I take up 
the involved Fundamental Concepts in the following order: 
I. Whole and Part; 

II. Subject and Object (Knowing and Being, Mind and Matter; 
Dualism, Materialism, Idealism); 

III. Reality and Appearance (Noumenon and Phenomenon); 


IV. Cause and Effect (Ground and Consequence; Causal System); 
V. One and Many (Number System; Monism and Pluralism); 

VI. Time and Space (their relation to Number; their Origin and 

Real Meaning) ; 
VII. Unconditioned and Conditioned (Soul, World, God; their 

Reinterpretation in terms of Pluralism) ; 

VIII. The True, the Beautiful, the Good (their relation to the 
question between Monism and Pluralism). 

These are successively dealt with as they rise one out of the other 
in the process of interpreting them and applying them in the actual 
creation of philosophy, as this goes on in the historic schools. The 
theoretic progress of philosophy is in this way explained by them, 
in its movement from natural dualism, or realism, thromgh the 
successive forms of monism, materialistic, agnostic, and idealistic, 
until it reaches the issue, now coming so strongly forward within 
the school of idealism, between the adherents of monism and those 
of pluralism. 

The importance of the Fundamental Concepts is shown to increase 
as we pass along the list, till on reaching Cause and Effect, and 
entering upon its full interpretation into the complete System of 
Causes, we arrive at the very significant conception of the RECi 1 - 
PROCITY OF FIRST CAUSES, and through it come to the PRIMACY OP 
FINAL CAUSE, and the derivative position of the other forms of cause, 
Material, Formal, Efficient. The philosophic strength of idealism, 
but especially of idealistic pluralism, comes into clear light as the re- 
sult of this stage of the inquiry. But it appears yet more decidedly 
when One and Many, Time and Space, and their interrelations, 
are subjected to analysis. So the discussion next passes to the 
higher conceptions, Soul, World, God, by the pathway of the cor- 
relation Unconditioned and Conditioned, and its kindred contrasts 
Absolute and Relative, Necessary and Contingent, Infinite and 
Finite, corroborating and reinforcing the import of idealism, and, 
still more decidedly, that of its plural form. Finally, the strong 
and favorable bearing of this last on the dissolution of agnosticism 
and the habilitation of the ideals, the True, the Beautiful, and the 
Good, in a heightened meaning, is brought out. 

This carries the inquiry to the second part of it, that of the Philo- 
sophical Methods. Here I recount these in a series of six: the 
Dogmatic, the Skeptical, the Critical, the Pragmatic, the Genetic, 
the Dialectic. These, I show, in spite of the tendency of the earlier 
members in the series to over-emphasis, all have their place and 
function in the development of a complete philosophy, and in fact 
form an ascending series in methodic effectiveness, all that precede 
the last being taken up into the comprehensive Critical Rationalism 
of the last. Methodology thus passes upward, over the ascending 


and widening roadways of (1) Intuition and Deduction; (2) Ex- 
perience and Induction; (3) Intuition and Experience adjusted by 
Critical Limits; (4) Skepticism reinforced and made grwasi-affirm- 
ative by Desire and Will; (5) Empiricism enlarged by substitu- 
tion of cosmic and psychic history for subjective consciousness; 
(6) Enlightened return to a Rationalism critically established by 
the inclusion of the preceding elements, and by the sifting and the 
grading of the Fundamental Concepts through their behavior when 
tested by the effort to make them universal. In this way, the 
methods fall into a System, the organic principle of which is this 
principle of Dialectic, which proves itself alone able to establish 
necessary truths; that is, truths indeed, judgments that are seen 
to exclude their opposites, because, in the attempt to substitute the 
opposite, the place of it is still filled by the judgment which it aims 
to dislodge. 

And now, with your favoring leave, I will read the excerpt from 
my larger text. 

The task to which, in an especial sense, the cultivators of philo- 
sophy are summoned by the plans of the present Congress of Arts 
and Science, is certainly such as to stir an ambition to achieve it. 
At the same time, it tempers eagerness by its vast difficulty, and the 
apprehension lest this may prove insuperable. The task, the officers 
of the Congress tell us, is no less than to promote the unification of 
all human knowledge. It requires, then, the reduction of the enor- 
mous detail in our present miscellany of sciences and arts, which to 
a general glance, or even to a more intimate view, presents a con- 
fusion of differences that seems overwhelming, to a system never- 
theless clearly harmonious, - - founded, that is to say, upon uni- 
versal principles which control all differences by explaining them, 
and which therefore, in the last resort, themselves flow lucidly from 
a single supreme principle. Simply to state this meaning of the task 
set us, is enough to awaken the doubt of its practicability. 

This doubt, we are bound to confess, has more and more impressed 
itself upon the general mind, the farther this has advanced in the 
experience of scientific discovery. The very increase in the multi- 
plicity and complexity of facts and their causal groupings increases 
the feeling that at the root of things there is " a final inexplicability " 
total reality seems, more and more, too vast, too profound, for us 
to grasp or to fathom. And yet, strangely enough, this increasing 
sense of mysterious vastness has not in the least prevented the modern 
mind from more and more asserting, with a steadily increasing in- 
sistence, the essential and unchangeable unity of that whole of things 
which to our ordinary experience, and even to all our sciences, appears 
such an endless and impenetrable complex of differences, --yes, of 
contradictions. In fact, this assertion of the unity of all things, under 


the favorite name of the Unity of Nature, is the pet dogma of modern 
science; or, rather, to speak with right accuracy, it is the stock-in- 
trade of a philosophy of science, current among many of the leaders 
of modern science; for every such assertion, covering, as it tacitly 
and unavoidably does, a view about the absolute whole, is an asser- 
tion belonging to the province of philosophy, before whose tribunal 
it must come for the assessment of its value. The presuppositions 
of all the special sciences, and, above all, this presupposition of the 
Unity and Uniformity of Nature, common to all of them, must thus 
come back for justification and requisite definition to philosophy 
that uppermost and all-inclusive form of cognition which addresses 
itself to the whole as whole. In their common assertion of the Unity 
of Nature, the exponents of modern science come unawares out of 
their own province into quite another and a higher; and in doing so 
they show how unawares they come, by presenting in most instances 
the curious spectacle of proclaiming at once their increasing belief 
in the unity of things, and their increasing disbelief in its pene- 
trability by our intelligence : 

In's Inner e der Natur, 
Dringt kein erschaffner Geist, 

is their chosen poet's expression of their philosophic mood. Curious 
we have the right to call this state of the scientific mind, because 
it is to critical reflection so certainly self-contradictory. How can 
there be a real unity belonging to what is inscrutable? - - what evi- 
dence of unity can there be, except in intelligible and explanatory 

But, at all events, this very mood of agnostic self-contradiction, 
into which the development of the sciences casts such a multitude 
of minds, brings them, - - brings all of us, as already indicated, 
into that court of philosophy where alone such issues lawfully belong, 
and where alone they can be adjudicated. If the unification of the 
sciences can be made out to be real by making out its sole sufficient 
condition, namely, that there is a genuine, and not a merely nominal, 
unity in the whole of reality itself, - - a unity that explains because 
it is itself, not simply intelligible, but the only completely intelligible 
of things, --this desirable result must be the work of philosophy. 
However difficult the task may be, it is rightly put upon us who belong 
to the Department listed first among the twenty-four in the pro- 
gramme of this representative Congress. 

I cannot but express my own satisfaction, as a member of this 
Department, nor fail to extend my congratulations to you who are 
my colleagues in it, that the Congress, in its programme, takes 
openly the affirmative on this question of the possible unification of 
knowledge. The Congress has thus declared beforehand for the 


practicability of the task it sets. It has even declared for its not 
distant accomplishment; indeed, not impossibly, its accomplishment 
through the transactions of the Congress itself; and it indicates, by 
no uncertain signs, the leading, the determining part that philosophy 
must have in the achievement. In fact, the authorities of the Congress 
themselves suggest a solution of their own for their problem. In their 
programme we see a renewed Hierarchy of the Sciences, and at the 
summit of this appears now again, after so long a period of humiliating 
obscuration, the figure of Philosophy, raised anew to that supremacy, 
as Queen of the Sciences, which had been hers from the days of Plato 
to those of Copernicus, but which she began to lose when modern 
physical and historical research entered upon its course of sudden 
development, and which, until recently, she has continued more and 
more to lose as the sciences have advanced in their career of discover- 
ies, -- ever more unexpected, more astonishing, yet more convincing 
and more helpful to the welfare of mankind. May this sign of her 
recovered empire not fail! If we rejoice at the token, the Congress 
has made it our part to see that the title is vindicated. It is ours to 
show this normative function of philosophy, this power to reign as the 
unifying discipline in the entire realm of our possible knowledge; to 
show T it by showing that the very nature of philosophy - - its ele- 
mental concepts and its directing ideals, its methods taken in their 
systematic succession - - is such as must result in a view of universal 
reality that will supply the principle at once giving rise to all the- 
sciences and connecting them all into one harmonious whole. 

Such, and so grave, my honored colleagues, is the duty assigned to- 
this hour. Sincerely can I say, Would it had fallen to stronger hands- 
than mine! But since to mine it has been committed, I w r ill undertake 
it in no disheartened spirit; rather, in that temper of animated hope 
in which the whole Congress has been conceived and planned. And 
I draw encouragement from the place, and its associations, where- 
we are assembled - - from its historic connections not only with the 
external expansion of our country, but with its growth in culture, 
and especially with its growth in the cultivation of philosophy. For 
your speaker, at least, can never forget that here in St. Louis, the 
metropolis of the region by which our national domain was in the- 
Louisiana Purchase so enlarged, --here was the centre of a move- 
ment in philosophic study that has proved to be of national import. 
It is fitting that we all, here to-day, near to the scene itself, com- 
memorate the public service done by our present National Commis~ 
sioner of Education and his group of enthusiastic associates, in 
beginning here, in the middle years of the preceding century, those 
studies of Kant and his great idealistic successors that unexpectedly 
became the nucleus of a wider and more penetrating study of philo- 
sophy in all parts of our country. It is with quickened memories 


belonging to the spot where, more than five-and-thirty years ago, it 
was my happy fortune to take some part with Dr. Harris and his 
companions, that I begin the task assigned me. The undertaking 
seems less hopeless when I can here recall the names and the con- 
genial labors of Harris, of Davidson, of Brockmeyer, of Snider, of 
Watters, of Jones, - - half of them now gone from life. They " builded 
better than they knew; " and, humbly as they may themselves have 
estimated their ingenuous efforts to gain acquaintance with the great- 
est thoughts, history will not fail to take note of what they did, as 
marking one of the turning-points in the culture of our nation. The 
publication of the Journal of Speculative Philosophy, granting all 
the subtractions claimed by its critics on the score of defects (of 
which its conductors were perhaps only too sensible) , was an influence 
that told in all our circles of philosophical study, and thence in the 
whole of our social as well as our academic life. 

[Here I enter upon the discussion of the subject proper, beginning, 
as above indicated, with the Fundamental Conceptions. Having 
followed these through the contrasts Whole and Part, Subject and 
Object, Reality and Appearance (or Noumenon and Phenomenon), 
and developed the bearing of these on the procedure of thought from 
the dualism of natural realism to materialism and thence to idealism, 
with the issue now coming on, in this last, between monism and 
pluralism, I strike into the contrast Cause and Effect, and, noting 
its unfolding into the more comprehensive form of Ground and Con- 
sequence, go on thence as follows: ] 

It is plain that the contrast Ground and Consequence will enable 
us to state the new issue with closer precision and pertinence than 
Reality and Appearance, Noumenon and Phenomenon, can supply; 
while, at the same time, Ground and Consequence exhibits Cause and 
Effect as presenting a contrast that only fulfills what Noumenon and 
Phenomenon foretold and strove towards; in fact, what was more 
remotely, but not less surely, also indicated by Whole and Part, 
Knowing and Being, Subject and Object. For in penetrating to the 
coherent meaning of these conceptions, the philosophic movement, 
as we saw, advanced steadily to the fuller and fuller translating of 
each of them into the reality that unifies by explanation, instead of 
pretending to explain by merely unifying; and this, of course, will 
now be put forward explicitly, in the clarified category of Cause and 
Effect, transfigured from a physical into a purely logical relation. 
What idealism now says, in terms of this, is that the Cause (or, as 
we now read it, the Ground) of all that exists is the Subject; is 
Mind, the intelligently Self-conscious; and that all things else, the 
mere objects, material things, are its Consequence, its Outcome, 


in that sense its Effect. And what the new pluralistic idealism says, 
is that the assemblage of individual minds - - intelligence being 
essentially personal and individual, and never merely universal 
and collective - - is the true total Cause of all, and that every mind 
thus belongs to the order of First Causes; nevertheless, that part, 
and the most significant part, of the nature of every mind, essential 
to its personality and its reason, is its recognition of other minds in 
the very act of its own self -definition. That is to say, a mind by its 
spontaneous nature as intelligence, by its intrinsic rational or logical 
genius, puts itself as member of a system of minds; all minds are put 
by each other as Ends --completely standard and sacred Objects, 
as much parts of the system of true Causes as each is, in its capacity 
of Subject; and we have a noumenal Reality that is properly to be 
described as the eternal Federal Republic of Spirits. 

Consequently, the relation of Cause and Effect now expands and 
heightens into a system of the RECIPROCITY OF FIRST CAUSES; causes, 
that is, which, while all coefficients in the existence and explanation 
of that natural world of experience which forms their passive effect, 
their objects of mere perception, are themselves related only in the 
higher way of Final Causes - - that is, Defming-Bases and Ends - 
of each other, making them the logical Complements, and the Ob- 
jects of conduct, all for each, and each for all. Hence, the system 
of causation undergoes a signal transformation, and proves to be 
organized by Final Cause as its basis and root, instead of by Efficient 
Cause, or Originating Ground, as the earlier stages of thinking had 
always assumed. 

The causal relation between the absolute or primary realities 
being purely Final, or Defining and Purposive; that is to say, the 
uncoercive influence of recognition and ideality; all the other forms 
of cause, as grouped by Aristotle, Material, Formal, and Efficient, 
are seen to be the derivatives of Final Cause, as being supplied 
by the action of the minds that, as absolute or underived realities, 
exist only in the relation of mutual Complements and Ends. Accord- 
ingly, Efficient Cause operates only from minds, as noumena, to 
matter, as their phenomenon, their presented contents of experience; 
or, in a secondary and derivative sense, from one phenomenon to 
another, or from one group of phenomena to another group, these 
playing the part of transmitters, or (as some logicians would say) 
Instrumental Causes, or Means. Cause, as Material, is hence defined 
as the elementary phenomenon, and the combinations of this; and 
therefore, strictly taken, is merely Effect (or Outcome) of the self- 
active consciousness, whose spontaneous forms of conception and 
perception become the Formal Cause that organizes the sum of 
phenomena into cosmic harmony or unity. 


Here, accordingly, comes into view the further and in some respects 
deeper conceptual pair, Many and One. The history of philosophic 
thought proves that this antithesis is darkly obscure and deeply 
ambiguous; for about it have centred a large part of the conflicts 
of doctrine. This pair has already been used, implicitly, in exhibiting 
the development of the preceding group, Cause and Effect; and 
in so using it we have supplied ourselves with a partial clarification 
of it, and with one possible solution of its ambiguity. We have seen, 
namely, how our strong natural persuasion that philosophy guided 
by the fundamental concept Cause must become the search for the 
One amid the wilderness of the Many, and that this search cannot 
be satisfied and ended except in an all-inclusive Unit, in which the 
Many is embraced as the integral and originated parts, completely 
determined, subjected, and controlled, may give way to another 
and less oppressive conception of unity; a conception of it as the 
harmony among many free and independent primary realities, 
a harmony founded on their intelligent and reasonable mutual 
recognition. This conception casts at least some clearing light upon 
the long and dreary disputes over the Many and the One; for it 
exposes, plainly, the main source of them. They have arisen out of 
two chief ambiguities, the ambiguity of the concept One, and the 
ambiguity of the concept Cause in its supreme meaning. The normal 
contrast between the One and the Many is a clear and simple con- 
trast: the One is the single unit, and the Many is the repetition of 
the unit, or is the collection of the several units. But if we go on to 
suppose that there is a collection or sum of all possible units, and 
call this the Whole, then, since there can be no second such, we call 
it also "one" (or the One, by way of preeminence), overlooking the 
fact that it differs from the simple one, or unit, in genere; that it is 
in fact not a unit at all, not an elementary member of a series, but 
the annulment of all series; that our name "one" has profoundly 
changed its meaning, and now stands for the Sole, the Only. Thus, 
by our forgetfulness of differences, we fall into deep water, and, 
with the confused illusions of the drowning, dream of the One and 
All as the single punctum originationis of all things, the Source and 
Begetter of the very units of which it is in reality only the resultant 
and the derivative. Or, from another point of view, and in another 
mood, we rightly enough take the One to mean the coherent, the 
intelligible, the consistent, the harmonious; and putting the Many, 
on the misleading hint of its contrast to the unit, in antithesis to 
this One of harmony, we fall into the belief that the Many cannot 
be harmonious, is intrinsically a cluster of repulsions or of collisions, 
incapable of giving rise to accord; indeed, essentially hostile to it. 
So, as accord is the aim and the essence of our reason, we are caught 
in the snare of monism, pluralism having .apparently become the 


equivalent of chaos, and thus the bete noir of rational metaphysics. 
Nay, in the opposed camp itself, some of the most ardent adherents 
of pluralism, the liveliest of wit, the most exuberant in literary re- 
sources, are the abjectest believers in the hopeless disjunction and 
capriciousness of the plural, and hold there is a rift in the texture of 
reality that no intelligence, u even though you dub it ' the Absolute," 
can mend or reach across. Yet surely there is nothing in the Many, as 
a sum of units, the least at war with the One as a system of harmony. 
On the contrary, even in the pure form of the Number Series, the 
Many is impossible except on the principle of harmony, --the units 
can be collected and summed (that is, constitute the Many), only 
if they cohere in a community of intrinsic kindred. Consequently 
the whole question of the chaotic or the harmonic nature of a plural 
world turns on the nature of the genus which we find characteristic 
of the absolutely (i.e., the unreservedly) real, and which is to be taken 
as the common denomination enabling us to count them and to sum 
them. When minds are seen to be necessarily the primary realities, 
but also necessarily federal as well as individual, the illusion about 
the essential disjunction and non-coherence of the plurally real dis- 
solves away, and a primordial world of manifold persons is seen 
to involve no fundamental or hopeless anarchy of individualism, 
irreducible in caprice, but an indwelling principle of harmony, 
rather, that from the springs of individual being intends the control 
and composure of all the disorders that mark the world of experien- 
tial appearance, and so must tend perpetually to effect this. 

The other main source of our confusions over the Many and the 
One is the variety of meaning hidden in the concept Cause, and our 
propensity to take its most obvious but least significant sense for 
its supreme intent. Closest at hand, in experience, is our productive 
causation of changes in our sense- world, and hence most obvious 
is that reading of Cause which takes it as the producer of changes 
and, with a deeper comprehension of it, of the inalterable linkage 
between changes, whereby one follows regularly and surely upon 
another. Thus what w r e have in philosophy agreed to call Efficient 
Cause comes to be mistaken for the profoundest and the supreme form 
of cause, and all the other modes of cause, the Material (or Stuff) , 
the Form (or Conception), and the End (or Purpose), its conse- 
quent and derivative auxiliaries. Under the influence of this strong 
impression, we either assume total reality to be One Whole, all- 
embracing and all-producing of its manifold modes, or else view it 
as a duality, consisting of One Creator and his manifold creatures. 
So it has come about that metaphysics has hitherto been chiefly 
a contention between pantheism and monotheism, or, as the latter 
should for greater accuracy be called, monarchic theism; and, it 
must be acknowledged, this struggle has been attended by a con- 


tinned (though not continual) decline of this later dualistic theory 
before the steadfast front and unyielding advance of the older 
monism. Thus persistent has been the assumption that harmony can 
only be assured by the unity given in some single productive causa- 
tion : the only serious uncertainty has been about the most rational 
way of conceiving the operation of this Sole Cause; and this doubt 
has thus far, on the whole, declined in favor of the Elder Oriental 
or monistic conception, as against the Hebraic conception of extra- 
neous creation by fiat. The frankly confessed mystery of the latter, 
its open appeal to miracle, places i-t at a fatal disadvantage with the 
Elder Orientalism, when the appeal is to reason and intelligibility. 
It is therefore no occasion for wonder that, especially since the rise 
of the scientific doctrine of Evolution, with its postulate of a univer- 
sal unity, self-varying yet self-fulfilling, even the leaders of theology 
are more and more falling into the monistic line and swelling the 
ever-growing ranks of pantheism. If it be asked here, And why not ? 
- where is the harm of it ? is not the whole question simply of what 
is true? the answer is, The mortal harm of the destruction of personal- 
ity, which lives or dies with the preservation or destruction of individual 
responsibility; ivhile the completer truth is, that there are other and 
profounder (or, if you please, higher) truths than this of explanation 
by Efficient Cause. In fact, there is a higher conception of Cause 
itself than this of production, or efficiency; for, of course, as we well 
might say, that alone can be the supreme conception of Cause which 
can subsist between absolute or unreserved realities, and such must 
exclude their production or their necessitating control by others. 
So that we ought long since to have realized that Final Cause, the 
recognized presence to each other as unconditioned realities, or De- 
fining Auxiliaries and Ends, is the sole causal relation that can hold 
among primary realities; though among such it can hold, and in 
fact must. 

For the absolute reality of personal intelligences, at once indi- 
vidual and universally recognizant of others, is called for by other 
conceptions fundamental to philosophy. These other fundamental 
concepts can no more be counted out or ignored than those we have 
hitherto considered; and when we take them up, we shall see how 
vastly more significant they are. They alone will prove supreme, 
truly organizing, normative; they alone can introduce gradation in 
truths, for they alone introduce the judgment of worth, of valuation; 
they alone can give us counsels of perfection, for they alone rise 
from those elements in our being which deal with ideals and with 
veritable Ideas. So let us proceed to them. 

Our path into their presence, however, is through another pair, 
not so plainly antithetic as those we have thus far considered. This 


pair that I now mean is Time and Space, which, though not ob- 
viously antinomic, yet owes its existence, as can now be shown, 
to that profoundest of concept-contrasts which we earlier considered 
under the head of Subject and Object, when the Object takes on its 
only adequate form of Other Subject. But in passing from the con- 
trast One and Many towards its rational transformation into the 
moral society of Mind and Companion Minds, we break into this 
pair of Time and Space, and must make our way through it by 
taking in its full meaning. 

Time and Space play an enormous part in all our empirical thinking, 
our actual use of thought in our sense-perceptive life. And no wonder; 
for, in cooperation, they form the postulate and condition of all our 
possible sensuous consciousness. Only on them as backgrounds can 
thought take on the peculiar clearness of an image or a picture; only 
on the screens which they supply can we literally depict an object. 
And this clarity of outline and boundary is so dear to our ordinary 
consciousness, that we are prone to say there is no sufficient, no real 
clearness, unless we can clarify by the bounds either of place or of 
date, or of both. In this mood, we are led to deny the reality and 
validity of thought altogether, when it cannot be defined in the metes 
and bounds afforded by Time or by Space: that which has no date 
nor place, we say, --no extent and no duration, --cannot be real; 
it is but a pseudo-thought, a pretense and a delusion. Here is the 
extremely plausible foundation of the philosophy known as sensa- 
tionism, the refined or second-thought form of materialism, in which 
it begins its euthanasia into idealism. 

Without delaying here to criticise this, let us notice the part that 
Time and Space play in reference to the conceptual pair we last con- 
sidered, the One and the Many; for not otherwise shall we find our 
way beyond them to the still more fundamental conceptions which 
we are now aiming to reach. Indeed, it is through our surface-appre- 
hension of the pair One and Many, as this illumines experience, that 
we most naturally come at the pair Time and Space; so that these are 
at first taken for mere generalizations and abstractions, the purely 
nominal representatives of the actual distinctions between the mem- 
bers of the Many by our sense-perception of this from that, of here 
from there, of now from then. It is not till our reflective attention is 
fixed on the fact that there and here, now and then, are peculiar dis- 
tinctions, wholly different from other contrasts of this with that, 
which may be made in all sorts of ways, by difference of quality, or of 
quantity, or of relations quite other than place and date, - - it is not 
till we realize this peculiar character of the Time-contrast and the 
Space-contrast, that we see these singular differential qualia cannot 
be derived from others, not even from the contrast One and Many, 
but are independent, are themselves underived and spontaneous 


utterances of our intelligent, our percipient nature. But when Kant 
first helped mankind to the realization of this spontaneous (or 
a priori) character of this pair of perceptive conditions, or Sense- 
Forms, he fell into the persuasion, and led the philosophic world into 
it, that though Time and Space are not derivatives of the One and 
the Many read as the numerical aspect of our perceptive experiences, 
yet there is between the two pairs a connection of dependence as 
intimate as that first supposed, but in exactly the opposite sense; 
namely, that the One and the Many are conditioned by Time and 
Space, or, when it comes to the last resort, are at any rate completely 
dependent upon Time. By a series of units, this view means, we really 
understand a set of items discriminated and related either as points or 
as instants: in the last analysis, as instants: that is, it is impossible 
to apprehend a unit, or to count and sum units, unless the unit is taken 
as an instant, and the units as so many instants. Numbers, Karit 
holds, are no doubt pure (or quite unsensuous) percepts, -- dis- 
cerned particulars, - - therefore spontaneous products of the mind 
a priori, but made possible only by the primary pure percept Time, 
or, again, through the mediation of this, by the conjoined pure per- 
cept Space; so that the numbers, in their own pure character, are 
simply the instants in their series. As the instants, and therefore the 
numbers, are pure percepts, - - particulars discerned without the 
help of sense, --so pure percepts, in a primal and comprehensive 
sense, argues Kant, must their conditioning postulates Time and 
Space be, to supply the "element," or "medium," that will render 
such pure percepts possible. 

This doctrine of Kant's is certainly plausible; indeed, it is impress- 
ively so; and it has taken a vast hold in the world of science, and 
has reinforced the popular belief in the unreality of thought apart 
from Time and Space; an unreality which it is an essential part of 
Kant's system to establish critically. But as a graver result, it has 
certainly tended to discredit the belief in personal identity as an 
abiding and immutable reality, enthroned over the mutations of 
things in Time and Space; since all that is in these is numbered and 
is mutable, and is rather many than one, yet nothing is believed real 
except as it falls under them, at any rate under Time. And with this 
decline of the belief in a changeless self, has declined, almost as rapidly 
and extensively, the belief in immortality. Or, rather, the per- 
manence and the identity of the person has faded into a question 
regarded as unanswerable ; though none the less does this agnostic 
state of belief tend to take personality, in any responsible sense of 
the word, out of the region of practical concern. With what is un- 
knowable, even if existing, we can have no active traffic; 't is for 
our conduct as if it were not. 

So it behooves us to search if this prevalent view about the relation 


of One and Many to Time and Space is trustworthy and exact. What 
place and function in philosophy must Space and Time be given? - 
for they certainly have a place and function; they certainly are 
among the inexpugnable conceptions with which thought has to 
concern itself when it undertakes to gain a view of the whole. But 
it may be easy to give them a larger place and function than belong 
to them by right. Is it true, then, that the One and the Many - - that 
the system of Numbers, in short --are unthinkable except as in 
Space and Time, or, at any rate, in Time? Or, to put the question 
more exactly, as well as more gravely and more pertinently, Are 
Space and Time the true principia individui, and is Time preemi- 
nently the ultimate principium indimduationis ? Is there accordingly 
no individuality, and no society, no associative assemblage, except 
in the fleeting world of phenomena, dated and placed? Simply to ask 
the question, and thus bring out the full drift of this Kantian doc- 
trine, is almost to expose the absurdity of it. Such a doctrine, though 
it may be wisely refusing to confound personality, true individuality, 
with the mere logical singular; nay, worse, with a limited and special 
illustration of the singular, the one here or the one there, the one now 
or the one then ; nevertheless, by confining numerability to things 
material and sensible, makes personal identity something unmeaning 
or impossible, and destroys part of the foundation for the relations 
of moral responsibility. Though the vital trait of the person, his 
genuine individuality, doubtless lies, not in his being exactly num- 
erable, but in his being aboriginal and originative; in a word, in his 
self-activity, in his being a centre of autonomous social recognition; 
yet exactly numerable he indeed is, and must be, not confusable with 
any other, else his professed autonomy, his claim of rights and his 
sense of duty, can have no significance, must vanish in the universal 
confusion belonging to the indefinite. Nor, on the other hand, is it at 
all true that a number has to be a point or an instant, nor that things 
when numbered and counted are implicitly pinned upon points or, at 
all events, upon instants. It may well enough be the fact that in our 
empirical use of number we have to employ Time, or even Space, but 
it is a gaping non sequitur to conclude that we therefore can count 
nothing but the placed and the dated. Certainly we count whenever 
we distinguish, - - by whatever means, on whatever ground. To 
think is, in general, at least to "distinguish the things that differ;" 
but this will not avail except we keep account of the differences; 
hence the One and the Many lie in the very bosom of intelligence, 
and this fundamental and spontaneous contrast can not only rive 
Time and Space into expressions of it, in instants and in points, but 
travels with thought from its start to its goal, and as organic factor 
in mathematical science does indeed, as Plato in the Republic said, 
deal with absolute being, if yet dreamwise ; so that One and Many, 


and Many as the sum of the ones, makes part of the measure of that 
primally real world which the world of minds alone can be. If the 
contrast One and Many can pass the bounds of the merely phenome- 
nal, by passing the temporal and the spatial; if it applies to universal 
being, to the noumenal as well as to the phenomenal; then the abso- 
lutely real world, so far as concerns this essential condition, can be 
a world of genuine individuals, identifiable, free, abiding, responsible, 
and there can be a real moral order; if not, then there can be no 
such moral world, and the deeper thought-conceptions to which we 
now approach must be regarded, at the best, as fair illusions, bare 
ideals, which the serious devotee of truth must shun, except in such 
moments of vacancy and leisure as he may venture to surrender, 
at intervals, to purely hedonic uses. But if the One and the Many 
are not dependent on Time and Space, their universal validity is 
possible; and it has already been shown that they are not so de- 
pendent, are not thus restricted. 

And now it remains to show their actual universality, by exhibiting 
their place in the structure of the absolutely real; since nobody calls 
in question their pertinence to the world of phenomena. But their 
noumenal applicability follows from their essential implication with 
all and every difference: no difference, no distinction, that does not 
carry counting; and this is quite as true as that there can be no count- 
ing without difference. The One and the Many thus root in Identity 
and Difference, pass up into fuller expression in Universal and Par- 
ticular, hold forward into Cause and Effect, attain their commanding 
presentation in the Reciprocity of First Causes, and so keep record of 
the contrast between Necessity and Contingency. In short, they are 
founded in, and in their turn help (indispensably) to express, all the 
categories, --Quality, Quantity, Relation, Modality. Nor do they 
suffer arrest there; they hold in the ideals, the True, the Beautiful, 
the Good, and in the primary Ideas, the Self, the World, and God. 
For all of these differ, however close their logical linkage may be; 
and in so far as they differ, each of them is a counted unit, and so they 
are many. And, most profoundly of all, One and Many take footing 
in absolute reality so soon as we realize that nothing short of intelli- 
gent being can be primordially real, underived, and truly causal, and 
that intelligence is, by its idea, at once an /-thinking and a universal 
recognizant outlook upon others that think /. 

Hence Number, so far from being the derivative of Time and Space, 
founds, at the bottom, in the self-definition and social recognition of 
intelligent beings, and so finds a priori a valid expression in Time and 
in Space, as well as in every other primitive and spontaneous form in 
which intelligence utters itself. The Pythagorean doctrine of the rank 
of Number in the scale of realities is only one remove from the truth : 
though the numbers are indeed not the Prime Beings, they do enter 


into the essential nature of the Prime Beings; are, so to speak, the 
organ of their definite reality and identity, and for that reason go 
forward into the entire defining procedure by which these intelli- 
gences organize their world of experiences. And the popular impres- 
sion that Time and Space are derivatives from Number, is in one 
aspect the truth, rather than the doctrine of Kant is; for though they 
are not mere generalizations and abstractions from numbered dates 
and durations, places and extents, they do exist as relating-principles 
which minds simply put, as the conditions of perceptive experiences ; 
which by the nature of intelligence they must number in order to 
have and to master; while Number itself, the contrast of One and 
Many, enters into the very being of minds, and therefore still holds 
in Time and in Space, which are the organs, or media, not of the whole 
being of the mind, but only of that region of it constituted by sensa- 
tion, -- the material, the disjunct, the empirical. Besides, the logical 
priority of Number is implied in the fact that minds in putting Time 
and Space a priori must count them as two, since they discriminate 
them with complete clearness, so that it is impossible to work up 
Space out of Time (as Berkeley and Stuart Mill so adroitly, but so 
vainly, attempted to do), or Time out of Space (as Hegel, with so little 
adroitness and such patent failure, attempted to do). No; there Time 
and Space stand, fixed and inconfusable, incapable of mutual trans- 
mutation, and thus the ground of an abiding difference between the 
inner or psychic sense-world and the outer or physical, between the 
subjective and the (sensibly) objective. By means of them, the world 
of minds discerns and bounds securely between the privacy of each 
and the publicity, the life "out of doors," which is common to all; 
between the cohering isolation of the individual and the communicat- 
ing action of the society. Indeed, as from this attained point of view 
we can now clearly see, the real ground of the difference between 
Time and Space, and hence between subjective perception and the 
objective existence of physical things, is in the fact that a mind, in 
being such, - - in its very act of self-definition, correlates itself 
with a society .of minds, and so, to fulfill its nature, in so far as this 
includes a world of experiences, must form its experience socially as 
well as privately, and hence will put forth a condition of sensuous 
communication, as well as a condition of inner sensation. Thus the 
dualization of the sense-world into inner and outer, psychic and 
physical, subjective and objective, rests at last on the intrinsically 
social nature of conscious being; rests on the twofold structure, 
logically dichotomous, of the self-defining act; and we get the explan- 
ation, from the nature of intelligence as such, why the Sense-Forms 
are necessarily two, and only two. It is no accident that we experi- 
ence all things sensible in Time or in Space, or in both together; it is 
the natural expression of our primally intelligent being, concerned 


as that is, directly and only, with our self and its logically necessary 
complement, the other selves; and so the natural order, in its two 
discriminated but complemental portions, the inner and the outer, 
is founded in that moral order which is given in the fundamental act of 
our intelligence. It is this resting of Space upon our veritable Objects, 
the Other Subjects, that imparts to it its externalizing quality, so 
that things in it are referred to the testing of all minds, not to ours 
only, and are reckoned external because measured by that which is 
alone indeed other than we. 

In this way we may burst the restricting limit which so much of 
philosophy, and so much more of ordinary opinion, has drawn about 
our mental powers in view of this contrast Time and Space, espe- 
cially with reference to the One and the Many, and to the persuasion 
that plural distinctions, at any rate, cannot belong in the region of 
absolute reality. Ordinary opinion either inclines to support a philo- 
sophy that is skeptical of either Unity or Plurality being pertinent 
beyond Time and Space, and thus to hold by agnosticism, or, if it 
affects affirmative metaphysics, tends to prefer monism to pluralism, 
when the number-category is carried up into immutable regions: to 
represent the absolutely real as One, somehow seems less contradict- 
ory of the "fitness of things" than to represent it as Many; more- 
over, carrying the Many into that supreme region, by implying the 
belonging there of mortals such as we, seems shocking to customary 
piety, and full of extravagant presumption. Still, nothing short of 
this can really satisfy our deep demand for a moral order, a personal 
responsibility, nay, an adequate logical fulfillment of our conception of 
a self as an intelligence ; while the clarification which a rational plural- 
ism supplies for such ingrained puzzles in the theory of knowledge as 
that of the source and finality of the contrast Time and Space, to 
mention no others, should afford a strong corroborative evidence in 
its behalf. And, as already said, this view enables us to pass the 
limit which Time and Space are so often supposed to put, hopelessly, 
upon our concepts of the ideal grade, the springs of all our aspira- 
tion. To these, then, we may now pass. 

We reach them through the doorways of the Necessary vs. the 
Contingent, the Unconditioned vs. the Conditioned, the Infinite vs. the 
Finite, the Absolute vs. the Relative; and we recognize them as our 
profoundest foundation-concepts, alone deserving, as Kant so per- 
tinently said, the name of IDEAS, the Soul, the World, and God. 
Associated with them are what we may call our three Forms of the 
Ideal, - - the True, the Beautiful, the Good. These Ideas and their 
affiliated ideals have the highest directive and settling function in 
the organization of philosophy; they determine its schools and its 
history, by forming the centre of all its controlling problems; they 


prescribe its great subdivisions, breaking it up into Metaphysics, 
^Esthetics, and Ethics, and Metaphysics, again, into Psychology 
Cosmology, and Ontology, --or Theology in the classic sense, which, 
in the modern sense, becomes the Philosophy of Religion; they call 
into existence, as essential preparatory and auxiliary disciplines, 
Logic and the Theory of Knowledge, or Epistemology. They thus 
provide the true distinctions between philosophy and the sciences of 
experience, and present these sciences as the carrying out, upon 
experiential details, of the methodological principles which philo- 
sophy alone can supply; hence they lead us to view all the sciences 
as in fact the applied branches, the completing organs of philosophy, 
instead of its hostile competitors. 

As for the controlling questions which they start, these are such as 
follow : Are the ideals but bare ideals, serving only to cast "a light 
that never was, on land or sea?" -are the Ideas only bare ideas, 
without any objective being of their own, without any footing in the 
real, serving only to enhance the dull facts of experience with auroral 
illusions? The philosophic thinker answers affirmatively, or with 
complete skeptical dubiety, or with a convinced and uplifting nega- 
tive, according to his less or greater penetration into the real meaning 
of these deepest concepts, and depending on his view into the nature 
and thought-effect of the Necessary and the Contingent, the Uncon- 
ditioned and the Conditioned, the Infinite and the Finite, the Abso- 
lute and the Relative. 

And what, now, are the accurate, the adequate meanings of the 
three Ideas? - - what docs our profoundest thought intend by the 
Soul, by the World, by God? We know how Kant construed them, 
in consequence of the course by which he came critically (as he 
supposed) upon them, --as respectively the paramount Subject of 
experiences; the paramount Object of experiences, or the Causal 
Unity of the possible series of sensible objects; and the complete 
Totality of Conditions for experience and its objects, itself therefore 
the Unconditioned. It is worth our notice, that especially by his con- 
struing the idea of God in this way, thus rehabilitating the classical 
and scholastic conception of God as the Sum of all Realities, he laid 
the foundation for that very transfiguration of mysticism, that ideal- 
istic monism, which he himself repudiated, but which his three noted 
successors in their several ways so ardently accepted, and which has 
since so pervaded the philosophic world. But suppose Kant's alleged 
critical analysis of the three Ideas and their logical basis is in fact far 
from critical, far from "exactly discriminative," -and I believe 
there is the clearest warrant for declaring that it is, - - then the 
assumed "undeniable critical basis" for idealistic monism will be 
dislodged, and it will be open to us to interpret the Ideas with accu- 
racy and consistency - - an interpretation which may prove to estab- 


lish, not at all any monism, but a rational pluralism. And this will 
also reveal to us, I think, that our prevalent construing of the Uncon- 
ditioned and the Conditioned, the Necessary and the Contingent, the 
Infinite and the Finite, the Absolute and the Relative, suffers from 
an equal inaccuracy of analysis, and precisely for this reason gives 
a plausible but in fact untrustworthy support to the monistic inter- 
pretation of God, and Soul, and World; or, as Hegel and his chief 
adherents prefer to name them, God, Mind, and Nature. If the 
Kantian analysis stands, then it seems to follow, clearly enough, that 
God is the Inclusive Unit which at once embraces Mind and Nature, 
Soul and World, expresses itself in them, and imparts to them their 
meaning; and the plain dictate then is, that Kant's personal pre- 
judice, and the personal prejudices of others like him, in favor of 
a transcendent God, must give way to that conception of the Divine, 
as immanent and inclusive, which is alone consistent with its being 
indeed the Totality of Conditions, the Necessary Postulate, and 
the Sufficient Reason, for both Subject and Object. 

But will Kant's analysis stand? Have we not here another of his 
few but fatal slips, - - like his doctrine of the dependence of Number 
upon Time and Space, and its consequent subjection to them? It 
surely seems so. If the veritable postulate of categorical syllogizing 
be, as Kant thinks it is, merely the Subject, the self as experiencer of 
presented phenomena, in contrast to the Object, the causally united 
sum of possible phenomena; and if the true postulate of conditional 
syllogizing is this cosmic Object, as contrasted with the correlate 
Subject, then it would seem we cannot avoid certain pertinent ques- 
tions. Is such a postulate Subject any fit and adequate account of the 
whole Self, of the Soul? is there not a vital difference between this 
subject-self and the Self as Person? does not Kant himself imply 
so, in his doctrine of the primacy of the Practical Reason? Again: Is 
not the World, as explained in Kant's analysis, and as afterwards 
made by him the solution of the Cosmological Antinomies, simply the 
supplemental factor necessarily correlate to the subjective aspect 
of the conscious life, and reduced from its uncritical role of thing-in- 
itself to the intelligible subordination required by Kant's theory of 
Transcendental Idealism? and can this be any adequate account 
of the Idea that is to stand in sufficing contrast to the whole Self, 
the Person? --what less than the Society of Persons can meet the 
World-Idea for that? Further: If with Kant we take the World to 
mean no more than this object-factor in self-consciousness, must not 
the Soul, the total Self, from which, according to Kant's Transcen- 
dental Idealism, both Space and Time issue, supplying the basis for 
the immutable contrast between the experiencing subject and the 
really experienced objects, must not this whole Self be the real 
meaning of the "Totality of Conditions, itself unconditioned," which 


comes into view as simply the postulate of disjunctive syllogizing? 
How in the world can disjunctive syllogizing, the confessed act of 
the /-thinking intelligence, really postulate anything as Totality of 
Conditions, in any other sense than the total of conditions for such 
syllogizing? -- namely, the conditioning I that organizes and does 
the reasoning? There is surely no warrant for calling this total, which 
simply transcends and conditions the subject and the object of sen- 
sible experiences, by any loftier name than that which Kant had 
already given it in the Deduction of the Categories, when he desig- 
nated it the "originally synthetic unity of apperception (self-con- 
sciousness)," or "the /-thinking (das ich-denke) that must accompany 
all my mental presentations," - that is to say, the whole Self, or 
thinking Person, idealistically interpreted. The use of the name God 
in this connection, where Kant is in fact only seeking the roots of the 
three orders of the syllogism when reasoning has by supposition been 
restricted to the subject-matter of experience, is assuredly without war- 
rant; yes, without excuse. In fact, it is because Kant sees that the 
third Idea, as reached through his analysis, is intrinsically immanent, 
- resident in the self that syllogizes disjunctively, and, because so 
resident, incapable of passing the bounds of possible experience, - 
while he also sees that the idea of God should mean a Being tran- 
scendent of every other thinker, himself a distinct individual con- 
sciousness, though not an empirically limited one, --it is, I say, 
precisely because he sees all this, that he pronounces the Idea, though 
named with the name of God, utterly without pertinence to indicate 
God's existence, and so enters upon that part of his Transcendental 
Dialectic which is, in chief, directed to exposing the transcendental 
illusion involved in the celebrated Ontological Proof. Consistently, 
Kant in this famous analytic of the syllogism should be talking, not 
of the Soul, the World, and God, but of the Subject (as uniting- 
principle of its sense-perceptions), the Object (as uniting-principle of 
all possible sense- per ce pts) , and the Self (the whole / presiding over 
experience in both its aspects, as these are discriminated in Time and 
Space) . By what rational title - - even granting for the sake of argu- 
ment that they are the genuine postulates of categorical and of con- 
ditional syllogizing -- can this Subject and this Object, these corre- 
late factors in the Self, rank as Ideas with the Idea of their condi- 
tioning Whole the Self, that in its still unaltered identity fulfills, in 
Practical Reason, the high role of Person? If this no more than meets 
the standard of Idea, how can they meet it? How can two somethings, 
neither of which is the Totality of Conditions, and both of which are 
therefore in fact conditioned, deserve the same title with that which 
is intrinsically the Totality of Conditions, and, as such, uncondi- 
tioned? To call the conditioned and the unconditioned alike Ideas is 
a confounding of dignities that Pure Reason should not tolerate, 


whether the procedure be read as a leveling down or a leveling up. 
Distributing the titles conferred by Pure Reason in this democratic 
fashion reminds us too much, unhappily for Kant, of the Cartesian 
performances with Substance; whereby God, mind, and matter be- 
came alike "substances," though only God could in truth be said to 
"require nothing for his existence save himself," while mind and 
matter, though absolutely dependent on God, and derivative from 
him, were still to be called substances in the "modified" and Pick- 
wickian sense of being underived from each other. 

But if Kant's naming his third syllogistic postulate the Idea of 
God is inconsequent upon his analysis; or if, when the analysis is 
made consequent by taking the third Idea to mean the whole Self, 
the first and second postulates sink in conceptual rank, so that they 
cannot with any pertinence be called Ideas, unless we are willing to 
keep the same name when its meaning must be changed in genere, 
a procedure that can only encumber philosophy instead of clearing 
its way, -- these difficulties do not close the account; we shall find 
other curious things in this noted passage, upon which part of the 
characteristic outcome of Kant's philosophizing so much depends. 
Besides the misnaming of the third Idea, we have already had to 
question, in view of the path by which he reaches it, the fitness of 
his calling the first by the title of the Soul; and likewise, though for 
other and higher reasons, of his calling the second by the name of the 
World. In fact, it comes home to us that all of the Ideas are, in one 
way or another, misnomers; Kant's whole procedure with them, in 
fine, has already appeared inexact, inconsistent, and therefore uncrit- 
ical. But now we shall become aware of certain other inconsistencies. 
In coming to the Subject, as the postulate of categorical syllogizing, 
Kant, you remember, does so by the path of the relation Subject and 
Predicate, arguing that the chain of categorical prosyllogisms has 
for its limiting concept and logical motor the notion of an absolute 
subject that cannot be a predicate; and as no subject of a judgment 
can of itself give assurance of fulfilling this condition, he concludes 
this motor-limit of judgment-subjects to be identical with the Subject 
as thinker, upon whom, at the last, all judgments depend, and who, 
therefore, and who alone, can never be a predicate merely. In similar 
fashion, he finds as the motor-limit of the series of conditional 
prosyllogisms, which is governed by the relation Cause and Effect, 
the notion of an absolute cause --a cause, that is, incapable of being 
an effect; and this, as undiscoverable in the chain of phenomenal 
causes, which are all in turn effects, he concludes is a pure Idea, the 
reason's native conception of a necessary linkage among all changes 
in Space, or of a Cosmic Unity among physical phenomena. In both 
conceptions, then, whether of the unity of the Subject or of the 
World, we seem to have a case of the unconditioned, as each, surely, 


is a totality of conditions: the one, for all possible syllogisms by 
Subject and Predicate; the other, for all possible syllogisms from 
Cause and Effect. Until it can be shown that the syllogisms of the 
first sort and the syllogisms of the second are both conditioned by 
the system of disjunctive syllogisms, so that the Idea alleged to be the 
totality of conditions for this system becomes the conditioning prin- 
ciple for both the others, there appears to be no ground for contrasting 
the totality of conditions presented in it with those presented in the 
others, as if it were the absolute Totality of all Conditions, while the 
two others are only " relative totalities," - which would be as much 
as to say they were only pseudo-totalities, both being conditioned 
instead of being unconditioned. But there seems to be no evidence, 
not even an indication, that disjunctive reasoning conditions cate- 
gorical or conditional - - that it constitutes the w r hole kingdom, in 
which the other two orders of reasoning form dependent provinces, 
or that for final validation these must appeal to the disjunctive series 
and the Idea that controls it. On the contrary, any such relation 
seems disproved by the fact that the three types of syllogism apply 
alike in all subject-matter, psychic or physical, subjective or object- 
ive, concerning the Self or concerning the World, --yes, concerning 
other Selves or even concerning God; whereas, if the relation were a 
fact, it would require that only disjunctive reasoning can deal with the 
Unconditioned, and that conditional must confine itself to cosmic 
material, while categorical pertains only to the things of inner sense. 
Such considerations cannot but shake our confidence in the inqui- 
sition to which Kant has submitted the Ideas of Reason, both as 
regards what they really mean and how they are to be correlated. 
At all events, the analysis of logical procedure and connection on 
which his account of them is based is full of the confusions and over- 
sights that have now been pointed out, and justifies us in saying 
that his case is not established. Hence we are not bound to follow- 
when his three successors, or their later adherents, proceed in accept- 
ance of his results, and advance into various forms of idealism, all of 
the monistic type, as if the general relation between the three Ideas- 
had been demonstrably settled by Kant in the monist sense, despite 
his not knowing this, and that all we have to do is to disregard his 
recorded protests, and render his results consistent, and our idealism 

A. / 

"absolute," by casting out from his doctrine the distinction between 
the Theoretical and the Practical Reason, with the "primacy" of the 
latter, through making an end of his assumed world of Dinge an sich, 
or "things in themselves." This movement, I repeat, we are not 
bound to follow: a rectification of view as to the meaning of the three 
Ideas becomes possible as soon as we are freed from Kant's entangled 
method of discovering and defining them; and when this rectification 
is effected, we shall find that the question between monism and 


rational or harmonic pluralism is at least open, to say no more. Nay, 
we are not to forget that by the results of our analysis of the concepts 
One and Many, Time and Space, and the real relation between them, 
plural metaphysics has already won a precedence in this contest. 



[George Trumbull Ladd, Professor of Philosophy, Yale University, b. Jan- 
uary 19, 1842, Painesville, Ohio. B.A. Western Reserve College, 1864; 
B.D. Andover Theological Seminary, 1869; D.D. Western Reserve, 1879; 
M.A.Yale, 1881; LL.D. Western Reserve, 1895; LL.D. Princeton, 1896. 
Decorated with the 3d Degree of the Order of the Rising Sun of Japan, 
1899; Pastor, Edinburg, Ohio, 1869-71; ibid., Milwaukee, Wis., 1871-79; 
Professor of Philosophy, Bowdoin College, 1879-81; ibid., Yale University, 
1881 ; Lecturer, Harvard, Tokio, Bombay, etc., 1885 . Member Ameri- 
can Psychological Association, American Society of Naturalists, American 
Philosophical Association, American Oriental Society, Imperial Educational 
Society of Japan, Connecticut Academy. Author of Elements of Physiolog- 
ical Psychology ; Philosophy of Knowledge ; Philosophy of Mind ; A Theory of 
Reality ; and many other noted scientific works and papers.] 

THE history of man's critical and reflective thought upon the 
more ultimate problems of nature and of his own life has, indeed, 
its period of quickened progress, relative stagnation, and apparent 
decline. Great thinkers are born and die, "schools of philosophy," 
so-called, arise, flourish, and become discredited; and tendencies 
of various characteristics mark the national or more general Zeit- 
geist of the particular centuries. And always, a certain deep under- 
current, or powerful stream of the rational evolution of humanity, 
flows silently onward. But these periods of philosophical develop- 
ment do not correspond to those which have been marked off for 
man by the rhythmic motion of the heavenly bodies, or by himself 
for purposes of greater convenience in practical affairs. The pro- 
posal, therefore, to treat any century of philosophical development 
as though it could be taken out of, and considered apart from, this 
constant unfolding of man's rational life is, of necessity, doomed to 
failure. And, indeed, the nineteenth century is no exception to the 
general truth. 

There is, however, one important and historical fact which makes 
more definite, and more feasible, the attempt to present in outline 
the history of the philosophical development of the nineteenth 
century. This fact is the death of Immanuel Kant, February 12, 
1804. In a very unusual way this event marks the close of the 


development of philosophy in the eighteenth century. In a yet 
more unusual way the same event defines the beginning of the philo- 
sophical development of the nineteenth century. The proposal is, 
therefore, not artificial, but in accordance with the truth of history, 
if we consider the problems, movements, results, and present con- 
dition of this development, so far as the fulfillment of our general 
purpose is concerned, in the light of the critical philosophy of Kant. 
This purpose may then be further defined in the following way : to 
trace the history of the evolution of critical and reflective thought 
over the more ultimate problems of Nature and of human life, in 
the Western World during the last hundred years, and from the 
standpoint of the conclusions, both negative and positive, which 
are best embodied in the works of the philosopher of Kdnigsberg. 
This purpose we shall try to fulfill in these four divisions of our theme : 
(1) A statement of the problems of philosophy as they were given over 
to the nineteenth century by the Kantian Critique; (2) a brief 
description of the lines of movement along which the attempts at 
the improved solution of these problems have proceeded, and of the 
principal influences contributing to these attempts; (3) a sum- 
mary of the principal results of these movements - - the items, so to 
say, of progress in philosophy which may be credited to the last cen- 
tury; and finally, (4) a survey of the present state of these pro- 
blems as they are now to be handed down by the nineteenth to the 
twentieth century. Truly an immensely difficult, if not an impos- 
sible task, is involved in this purpose! 

I. The problems which the critical philosophy undertook defini- 
tively to solve may be divided into three classes. The first is the 
epistemological problem, or the problem offered by human know- 
ledge its essential nature, its fixed limitations, if such there be, 
and its ontological validity. It was this problem which Kant brought 
to the front in such a manner that certain subsequent writers on 
philosophy have claimed it to be, not only the primary and most 
important branch of philosophical discipline, but to comprise the 
sum-total of what human reflection and critical thought can suc- 
cessfully compass. "We call philosophy self-knowledge," says one 
of these writers. "The theory of knowledge is the true prima philo- 
sophia," says another. Kant himself regarded it as the most im- 
perative demand of reason to establish a science that shall "deter- 
mine a priori the possibility, the principles, and the extent of all 
cognitions." The burden of the epistemological problem has pressed 
heavily upon the thought of the nineteenth century; the different 
attitudes toward this problem, and its different alleged solutions, 
have been most influential factors in determining the philosophical 
discussions, divisions, schools, and permanent or transitory achieve- 
ments of the century. 


In the epistemological problem as offered by the Kantian philo- 
sophy of cognition there is involved the subordinate but highly 
important question as to the proper method of philosophy. Is the 
method of criticism, as that method was employed in the three 
Critiques of Kant, the exclusive, the sole appropriate and product- 
ive way of advancing human philosophical thought? I do not 
think that the experience of the nineteenth century warrants an 
affirmative answer to this question of method. This experience has 
certainly, however, resulted in demonstrating the need of a more 
thorough, consistent, and fundamental use of the critical method 
than that in which it was employed by Kant. And this improved use 
of the critical method has induced a more profound study of the 
psychology of cognition, and of the historical development of philo- 
sophy in the branch of epistemology. More especially, however, it 
has led to the reinstatement of the value-judgments, as means of 
cognition, in their right relations of harmony with the judgments 
of fact and of law. 

The second of the greater problems which the critical philosophy 
of the eighteenth handed on to the nineteenth century is the onto- 
logical problem. This problem, even far more than the epistemo- 
logical, has excited the intensest interest, and called for the pro- 
foundest thought, of reflective minds during the last hundred years. 
This problem engages in the inquiry as to what Reality is; for to 
define philosophy from the ontological point of view renders it 
"the rational science of reality;" or, at least, "the science of the 
supreme and most important realities." In spite of the fact that 
the period immediately following the conclusion of the Kantian 
criticism was the age when the people were singing 

" Da die Metaphysik vor Kurzem unbeerbt abging, 
Werden die Dinge an sich jetzo sub hasta verkauft," 

the cultivation of the ontological problem, and the growth of sys- 
tematic metaphysics in the nineteenth century, had never pre- 
viously been surpassed. In spite of, or rather because of, the fact 
that Kant left the ancient body of metaphysics so dismembered and 
discredited, and his own ontological structure in such hopeless con- 
fusion, all the several buildings both of Idealism and of Realism 
either rose quickly or were erected upon the foundations made bare 
by the critical philosophy. 

But especially unsatisfactory to the thought of the first quarter 
of the nineteenth century was the Kantian position with reference 
to the problem in which, after all, both the few who cultivate philo- 
sophy and the multitude who share in its fruits are always most 
truly interested; and this is the ethico-religious problem. In the 
judgment of the generation which followed him, Kant had achieved 


for those who accepted his points of view, his method of philo- 
sophizing, and his results, much greater success in "removing know- 
ledge" than in "finding room for faith." For he seemed to have 
left the positive truths of Ethics so involved in the negative posi- 
tions of his critique of knowledge as greatly to endanger them; and 
to have entangled the conceptions of religion with those of morality 
in a manner to throw doubt upon them both. 

The breach between the human cognitive faculties and the onto- 
logical doctrines and conceptions on which morality and religion 
had been supposed to rest firmly, the elaborately argued distrust 
and skepticism which had been aimed against the ability of human 
reason to reach reality, and the consequent danger which threatened 
the most precious judgments of worth and the ontological value 
of ethical and aBSthetical sentiments, could not remain unnoticed, 
or fail to promote ceaseless and earnest efforts to heal it. The hitherto 
accepted solutions of the problems of cognition, of being, and of 
man's ethico-religious experience, could not survive the critical 
philosophy. But the solutions which the critical philosophy itself 
offered could not fail to excite opposition and to stimulate further 
criticism. Moreover, certain factors in human nature, certain inter- 
ests in human social life, and certain needs of humanity, not fully 
recognized and indeed scarcely noticed by criticism, could not 
fail to revive and to enforce their ancient, perennial, and valid 

In a word, Kant left the main problems of philosophy involved 
in numerous contradictions. The result of his penetrating but ex- 
cessive analysis was unwarrantably to contrast sense with under- 
standing; to divide reason as constitutive from reason as regulative; 
to divorce the moral law from our concrete experience of the results 
of good and bad conduct, true morality from many of the noblest 
desires and sentiments, and to set in opposition phenomena and 
noumerta, order and freedom, knowledge and faith, science and 
religion. Now the highest aim of philosophy is reconciliation. What 
wonder, then, that the beginning of the last century felt the stimu- 
lus of the unreconciled condition of the problems of philosophy at 
the end of the preceding century! The greatest, most stimulating 
inheritance of the philosophy of the nineteenth century from the 
philosophy of the eighteenth century was the "post-Kantian pro- 

II. The lines of the movement of philosophical thought and the 
principal contributory influences which belong to the nineteenth 
century may be roughly divided into two classes; namely, (1) 
those which tended in the direction of carrying to the utmost ex- 
treme the negative and destructive criticism of Kant, and (2) those 
which, either mainly favoring or mainly antagonizing the con- 


elusions of the Kantian criticism, endeavored to place the positive 
answer to all three of these great problems of philosophy upon 
more comprehensive, scientifically defensible, and permanently 
sure foundations. The one class so far completed the attempt to 
remove the knowledge at which philosophy aims as, by the end of 
the first half of the century, to have left no rational ground for 
any kind of faith. The other class had not, even by the end of the 
second half of the century, as yet agreed upon any one scheme for 
harmonizing the various theories of knowledge, of reality, and of 
the ground of morality and religion. There appeared, however, - 
especially during the last two decades of the century, certain 
signs of convergence upon positions, to occupy which is favorable 
for agreement upon such a scheme, and which now promise a new 
constructive era for philosophy. The terminus of the destructive 
movement has been reached in our present-day positivism and philo- 
sophical skepticism. For this movement there would appear to be 
no more beyond in the same direction. The terminus of the other 
movement can only be somewhat dimly descried. It may perhaps 
be predicted with a reasonable degree of confidence as some form 
of ontological Idealism (if we may use such a phrase) that shall be 
at once more thoroughly grounded in man's total experience, as 
interpreted by modern science, and also more satisfactory to human 
ethical, asthetical, and religious ideals, than any form of system- 
atic philosophy has hitherto been. But to say even this much is 
perhaps unduly to anticipate. 

If we attempt to fathom and estimate the force of the various 
streams of influence which have shaped the history of the philo- 
sophical development of the nineteenth century, I think there can 
be no doubt that the profoundest and the most powerful is the one 
influence which must be recognized and reckoned with in all the 
centuries. This influence is humanity's undying interest in its 
moral, civil, and religious ideals, and in the civil and religious in- 
stitutions which give a faithful but temporary expression to these 
ideals. In the long run, every fragmentary or systematic attempt 
at the solution of the problem of philosophy must sustain the test 
of an ability to contribute something of value to the realization of 
these ideals. The test which the past century has proposed for its 
own thinkers, and for its various schools of philosophy, is by far the 
severest which has ever been proposed. For the most part unosten- 
tatiously and in large measure silently, the thoughtful few and 
the comparatively thoughtless multitude have been contributing, 
either destructively or constructively, to the effort at satisfaction 
for the rising spiritual life of man. And if in some vague but 
impressive manner we speak of this thirst for spiritual satisfac- 
tion as characteristic of any period of human history, we may say, 


I believe, that it has been peculiarly characteristic and especially 
powerful as an influence during the last hundred years. The opin- 
ions, sentiments, and ideals which shape the development of the 
institutions of the church and state, and the freer activities of the 
same opinions, sentiments, and ideals, have been in this century, 
as they have been in every century, the principal factors in deter- 
mining the character of its philosophical development. 

But a more definite and visible kind of influence has constantly 
proceeded from the centres of the higher education. The univers- 
ities -- especially of Germany, next, perhaps of Scotland, but 
also of England and the United States, and even in less degree of 
France and Italy - - have both fostered and shaped the evolution 
of critical and reflective thought, and of its product as philosophy. 
In Germany during the eighteenth century the greater universities 
had been emancipating themselves from the stricter forms of polit- 
ical and court favoritism and of ecclesiastical protection and con- 
trol. This emancipation had already operated at the beginning of 
the nineteenth century, and it continued more and more to operate 
throughout this century, for participation in that free thought 
whose spirit is absolutely essential to the flourishing of true philo- 
sophy. All the other colleges and universities can scarcely repay 
the debt which modern philosophy owes to the universities of Ger- 
many. The institutions of the higher education which are moulded 
after this spirit, and which have a generous share of this spirit, 
have everywhere been schools of thought as well as schools of learn- 
ing and research. Without the increasing numbers and growing 
encouragement of such centres for the cultivation of the discipline 
of critical and reflective thinking, it is difficult to conjecture how 
much the philosophical development of the nineteenth century would 
have lost. Libertas docendi and Acadcmische Freiheit without these 
philosophy has one of its wings fatally wounded or severely clipped. 

Not all the philosophy of the last century, however, was born 
and developed in academical centres and under academical in- 
fluences. In Germany, Great Britain, and France, the various 
so-called "Academies" or other unacademical associations of men 
of scientific interests and attainments notably, the Berlin Acad- 
emy, which has been called "the seat of an anti-scholastic popular 
philosophy" - were during the first half of the nineteenth century 
contributing by their conspicuous failures as well as by their less 
conspicuous successes, important factors to the constructive new 
thought of the latter half of the nineteenth century. In general, 
although these men decried system and were themselves inade- 
quately prepared to treat the problems of philosophy, whether 
from the historical or the speculative and critical point of view, they 
cannot be wholly neglected in estimating its development. Clever 


reasoning, and witty and epigrammatic writing on scientific or 
other allied subjects, cannot indeed be called philosophy in the 
stricter meaning of the word. But this so-called "popular philo- 
sophy " has greatly helped in a way to free thought from its too close 
bondage to scholastic tradition. And even the despite of philosophy, 
and sneering references to its "barrenness," which formerly charac- 
terized the meetings and the writings of this class of its critics, but 
which now are happily much less frequent, have been on the whole 
both a valuable check and a stimulus to her devotees. He would be 
too narrow and sour a disciple of scholastic metaphysics and sys- 
tematic philosophy, who, because of the levity or scorning of "out- 
siders," should refuse them all credit. Indeed, the lesson of the close 
of the nineteenth century may well enough be the motto for the 
beginning of the twentieth century : In philosophy since to philo- 
sophize is natural and inevitable for all rational beings - - there really 
are no outsiders. 

In this connection it is most interesting to notice how men of the 
type just referred to, were at the end of the eighteenth century 
found grouped around such thinkers as Mendelssohn, Lessing, 
F. Nicolai, -- representing a somewhat decided reaction from the 
French realism to the German idealism. The work of the Academ- 
icians in the criticism of Kant was carried forward by Jacobi, 
who, at the time of his death, was the pensioned president of the 
Academy at Munich. Some of these same critics of the Kantian 
philosophy showed a rather decided preference for the "common- 
sense" philosophy of the Scottish School. 

But both inside and outside of the > Universities and Academies 
the scientific spirit and acquisitions of the nineteenth century have 
most profoundly, and on the whole favorably, affected the develop- 
ment of its philosophy. In the wider meaning of the word, " science, " 
-the meaning, namely, in which science = Wissensdiaft, philo- 
sophy aims to be scientific; and science can never be indifferent 
to philosophy. In their common aim at a rational and unitary sys- 
tem of principles, which shall explain and give its due significance to 
the totality of human experience, science and philosophy can never 
remain long in antagonism; they ought never even temporarily to 
be divided in interests, or in the spirit which leads each generously 
to recognize the importance of the other. The early part of the last 
century was, indeed, too much under the influence of that almost 
exclusively speculative Natur-philosophie, of which Schelling and 
Hegel were the most prominent exponents. On the other hand, the 
conception of nature as a vast interconnected and unitary system 
of a rational order, unfolding itself in accordance with teleological 
principles, - - however manifold and obscure, is a noble concep- 
tion and not destined to pass away. 


On the continent -- at least in France, where it had attained 
its highest development - - the scientific spirit was, at the close 
of the eighteenth century, on the whole opposed to systematization. 
The impulse to both science and philosophy during both the eight- 
eenth and the nineteenth centuries, over the entire continent of 
Europe, was chiefly due to the epoch-making work of that greatest 
of all titles in the modern scientific development of the Western 
World, the Principia of Newton. In mathematics and the phys- 
ical sciences, during the early third or half of the last century, Great 
Britain also has a roll of distinguished names which compares most 
favorably with that of either France or Germany. But in England, 
France, and the United States, during the whole century, science has 
lacked the breadth and philosophic spirit which it had in Germany 
during the first three quarters of this period. During all that time 
the German man of science was, as a rule, a scholar, an investi- 
gator, a teacher, and a philosopher. Science and philosophy thrived 
better, however, in Scotland than elsewhere outside of Germany, so 
far as their relations in interdependence were concerned. Into the 
Scottish universities Playfair introduced some of the continental 
suggestions toward the end of the eighteenth century, so that there 
was less of exclusiveness and unfriendly rivalry between science and 
philosophy; and both profited thereby. In the United States, during 
the first half or more of the century, so dominant were the theo- 
logical and practical interests and influences that there was little 
free development of either science or philosophy, - - if we interpret 
the one as the equivalent of Wissenschaft and understand the other 
in the stricter meaning of the word. 

The history of the development of the scientific spirit and of the 
achievements of the particular sciences is not the theme of this 
paper. To trace in detail, or even in its large outlines, the reciprocal 
influence of science and philosophy during the past hundred years, 
would itself require far more than the space allotted to me. It must 
suffice to say that the various advances in the efforts of the par- 
ticular sciences to enlarge and to define the conceptions and prin- 
ciples employed to portray the Being of the World in its totality, 
have somewhat steadily grown more and more completely meta- 
physical, and more and more of positive importance for the recon- 
struction of systematic philosophy. The latter has not simply been 
disciplined by science, compelled to improve its method, and to ex- 
amine all its previous claims. But philosophy has also been greatly 
enriched by science with respect to its material awaiting synthesis, 
and it has been not a little profited by the unsuccessful attempts of 
the current scientific theories to give themselves a truly satisfactory 
account of that Ultimate Reality which, to understand the better, 
is no unworthy aim of their combined efforts. 


During the nineteenth century science has seen many important 
additions to that Ideal of Nature and her processes, to form which 
in a unitary and harmonizing but comprehensive way is the philo- 
sophical goal of science. The gross mechanical conception of nature 
which prevailed in the earlier part of the eighteenth century has long 
since been abandoned, as quite inadequate to our experience with 
her facts, forces, and law T s. The kinetic view, which began with 
Huygens, Euler, and Ampere, and which was so amplified by Lord 
Kelvin and Clerk-Maxwell in England, and by Helmholtz and others 
in Germany, on account of its success in explaining the phenomena 
of light, of gases, etc., very naturally led to the attempt to develop 
a kinetic theory, a doctrine of energetics, which should explain all 
phenomena. But the conception of "that which moves," the ex- 
perience of important and persistent qualitative differentiae, and 
the need of assuming ends and purposes served by the movement, 
are troublesome obstacles in the way of giving such a completeness 
to this theory of the Being of the World. Yet again the amazing 
success which the theory of evolution has shown in explaining the 
phenomena with which the various biological sciences concern 
themselves, has lent favor during the latter half of the century to 
the vitalistic and genetic view of nature. For all our most elaborate 
and advanced kinetic theories seem utterly to fail us as explanatory 
when we, through the higher powers of the microscope, stand won- 
dering and face to face with the evolution of a single living cell. 
But from such a view of the essential Being of the World as evolu- 
tion suggests to the psycho-physical theory of nature is not an 
impassable gulf. And thus, under its growing wealth of knowledge, 
science may be leading up to an Ideal of the Ultimate Reality, in 
which philosophy will gratefully and gladly coincide. At any rate, 
the modern conception of nature and the modern conception of 
God are not so far apart from each other, as either of these con- 
ceptions is now removed from the conceptions covered by the same 
terms, some centuries gone by. 

There is one of the positive sciences, however, with which the 
development of philosophy during the last century has been par- 
ticularly allied. This science is psychology. To speak of its history 
is not the theme of this paper. But it should be noted in passing 
how the development of psychology has brought into connection 
with the physical and biological sciences the development of philo- 
sophy. This union, whether it be for better or for worse, and, 
on the whole, I believe it to be for better rather than for worse, - 
has been in a very special way the result of the last century. In 
tracing its details we should have to speak of the dependence of 
certain branches of psychology on physiology, and upon Sir Charles 
Bell's discovery of the difference between the sensory and the motor 


nerves. This discovery was the contribution of the beginning of 
the century to an entire line of discoveries, which have ended at the 
close of the century with putting the localization of cerebral func- 
tion upon a firm experimental basis. Of scarcely less importance 
has been the cellular theory as applied (1838) by Matthias Schleiden, 
a pupil of Fries in philosophy, to plants, and by Theodor Schwann 
about the same time to animal organisms. To these must be added 
the researches of Johannes Miiller (1801-1858), the great biologist, 
a listener to Hegel's lectures, whose law of specific energies brings 
him into connection with psychology and, through psychology, to 
philosophy. Even more true is this of Helmholtz, whose Lehre von 
den Toncmpfindungen (1862) and Physiologische Optik (1867) placed 
him in even closer, though still mediate, relations to philosophy. 
But perhaps especially Gustav Theodor Fechner (1801-1887), whose 
researches in psycho-physics laid the foundations of whatever, either 
as psychology or as philosophy, goes under this name; and whether 
the doctrine have reference to the relation of man's mind and body, 
or to the wider relations of spirit and matter. 

In my judgment it cannot be affirmed that the attempts of the 
latter half of the nineteenth century to develop an experimental 
science of psychology in independence of philosophical criticism and 
metaphysical assumption, or the claims of this science to have 
thrown any wholly new light upon the statement, or upon the 
solution of philosophical problems, have been largely successful. 
But certain more definitely psychological questions have been to 
a commendable degree better analyzed and elucidated; the new 
experimental methods, where confined within their legitimate 
sphere, have been amply justified; and certain ^wast-metaphysical 
views respecting the nature of the human mind, and even, if you 
will, the nature of the Spirit in general have been placed in a 
more favorable and scientifically engaging attitude toward speculat- 
ive philosophy. This seems to me to be especially true with respect 
to two problems in which both empirical psychology and philosophy 
have a common and profound interest. These are (1) the complex 
synthesis of mental functions involved in every act of true cogni- 
tion, together with the bearing which the psychology of cognition 
has upon epistemological problems; and (2) the yet more complex 
and profound analysis, from the psychological point of view, of what 
it is to be a self-conscious and self-determining Will, a true Self, 
together with the bearing which the psychology of selfhood has 
upon all the problems of ethics, aesthetics, and religion. 

The more obvious and easily traceable influences which have 
operated to incite and direct the philosophical development of the 
nineteenth century are, of course, dependent upon the teachings and 
writings of philosophers, and the schools of philosophy which they 


have founded. To speak of these influences even in outline would be 
to write a manual of the history of philosophy during that hundred of 
years, which has been of all others by far the most fruitful in material 
results, whatever estimate may be put upon the separate or combined 
values of the individual thinkers and their so-called schools. No 
fewer than seven or eight relatively independent or partially antag- 
onistic movements, which may be traced back either directly or 
more indirectly to the critical philosophy, and to the form in which 
the problems of philosophy were left by Kant, sprung up during the 
century. In Germany chiefly, there arose the Faith-philosophy, the 
Romantic School, and Rational Idealism; in France, Eclecticism and 
Positivism (if, indeed, the latter can be called a philosophy) ; in Scot- 
land, a naive and crude form of Realism, which served well for the 
time as an antagonist of a skeptical idealism, but which itself con- 
tributed to an improved form of Idealism ; and in the United States, 
or rather in New England, a peculiar kind of Transcendentalism of 
the sentimental type. But all these movements of thought, and 
others lying somewhere midway between, in a pair composed of any 
two, together with a steadfast remainder of almost every sort of 
Dogmatism, and all degrees and kinds of Skepticism, have been inter- 
mixed and contending with one another, in all these countries. Such 
has been the varied, undefinable, and yet intensely stimulating and 
interesting character of the development of systematic and scholastic 
philosophy, during the nineteenth century. 

The early opposition to Kant in Germany was, in the main, two- 
fold : - - both to his peculiar extreme analysis with its philosophical 
conclusions, and also to all systematic as distinguished from a more 
popular and literary form of philosophizing. Toward the close of the 
eighteenth century a group of men had been writing upon philo- 
sophical questions in a spirit and method quite foreign to that held 
in respect by the critical philosophy. It is not wholly without signi- 
ficance that Lessing, whose aim had been to use common sense and 
literary skill in clearing up obscure ideas and improving and illumin- 
ing the life of man, died in the very year of the appearance of Kant's 
Kritik der reinen Vernunft. Of this class of men an historian dealing 
with this period has said, " There is hardly one who does not quote 
somewhere or other Pope's saying, 'The proper study of mankind 
is man.'" To this class belong Hamann (1730-1788), the inspirer 
of Herder and Jacobi. The former, who was essentially a poet and 
a friend of Goethe, controverted Kant with regard to his doctrine of 
reason, his antithesis between the individual and the race, and his 
schism between things as empirically known and the known unity in 
the Ground of their being and becoming. Herder's path to truth was 
highly colored with flowers of rhetoric ; but the promise was that he 
would lead men back to the heavenly city. Jacobi, too, with due 


allowance made for the injury wrought by his divorce of the two 
philosophies, - - that of faith and that of science, - - and his excessive 
estimate of the value-judgments which repose in the mist of a feeling- 
faith, added something of worth by way of exposing the barrenness 
of the Kantian doctrine of an unknowable "Thing-in-itself." 

From men like Fr. Schlegel (1772-1829), whose valid protest against 
the sharp separation of speculative philosophy from the sesthetical, 
social, and ethical life, assumed the "standpoint of irony," little real 
result in the discovery of truth could be expected. But Schleier- 
macher (1768-1834), in spite of that mixture of unfused elements 
which has made his philosophy "a rendezvous for the most diverse 
systems," contributed valuable factors to the century's philosophical 
development, both of a negative and of a positive character. This 
thinker was peculiarly fortunate in the enrichment of the conception 
of experience as warranting a justifiable confidence in the ontological 
value of ethical, sesthetical, and religious sentiment and ideas; but he 
was most unfortunate in reviving and perpetuating the unjustifiable 
Kantian distinction between cognition and faith in the field of ex- 
perience. On the whole, therefore, the Faith-philosophy and the 
Romantic School can easily be said to have contributed more than 
a negative and modifying influence to the development of the philo- 
sophy of the nineteenth century. Its more modern revival toward 
the close of the same century, and its continued hold upon certain 
minds of the present day, are evidences of the positive but partial 
truth which its tenets, however vaguely and unsystematically, con- 
tinue to maintain in an aesthetically and practically attractive way. 

The admirers of Kant strove earnestly and with varied success 
to remedy the defects of his system. Among the earlier, less cele- 
brated and yet important members of this group, were K. G. Rein- 
hold (1758-1823), and Maimon (died, 1800). The former, like 
Descartes, in that he was educated by the Jesuits, began the attempt, 
after rejecting some of the arbitrary distinctions of Kant and his 
barren and self-contradictory "Thing-in-itself," to unify the critical 
philosophy by reducing it to some one principle. The latter really 
transcended Kant in his philosophical skepticism, and anticipated the 
Hamiltonian form of the so-called principle of relativity. Fries (1773- 
1843), and Hermes (1775-1831) --the latter of whom saw in empir- 
ical psychology the only true propa?deutic to philosophy should be 
mentioned in this connection. In the same group was another, both 
mathematician and philosopher, who strove more successfully than 
others of this group to accept the critical standpoint of Kant and yet 
to transcend his negative conclusions with regard to a theory of 
knowledge. I refer to Bolzano (Prague, 1781-1848), who stands in the 
same line of succession with Fries and Hermes, and whose works 
on the Science of Religion (4 vols. 1834) and his Science of Know- 


ledge (4 vols. 1837) are noteworthy contributions to epistemological 
doctrine. In the latter we have developed at great length the import- 
ant thought that the illative character of prepositional judgments 
implies an objective relation; and that in all truths the subject-idea 
must be objective. In the work on religion there is found as thor- 
oughly dispassionate and rational a defense of Catholic doctrine as 
exists anywhere in philosophical literature. The limited influence of 
these works, due in part to their bulk and their technical character, is 
on the whole, I think, sincerely to be regretted. 

It was, however, chiefly that remarkable series of philosophers 
which may be grouped under the rubric of a "rational Idealism," 
who rilled so full and made so rich the philosophical life of Germany 
during the first half of the last century; whose philosophical thoughts 
and systems have spread over the entire Western World, and who are 
most potent influences in shaping the development of philosophy 
down to the present hour. Of these we need do little more than that 
we can do --mention their names. At their head, in time, stands 
Fichte, \vho although Kant is reported to have complained of this 
disciple because he lied about him so much - - really divined a truth 
which seems to be hovering in the clouds above the master's head, 
but which, if the critical philosophy truly meant to teach it, needed 
helpful deliverance in order to appear in perfectly clear light. Fichte, 
although he divined this truth, did not, however, free it from internal 
confusion and self-contradiction. It 'is his truth, nevertheless, that in 
the Self, as a self-positing and self-determining activity, must some- 
how be found the Ground of all experience and of all Reality. 

The important note which Schelling sounded was the demand that 
philosophy should recognize "Nature" as belonging to the sphere 
of Reality, and as requiring a measure of reflective thought which 
should in some sort put it on equal terms with the Ego, for the con- 
struction of our conception of the Being of the World. To Schelling it 
seemed impossible to deduce, as Fichte had done, all the rich concrete 
development of the world of things from the subjective needs and con- 
stitutional forms of functioning which belong to the finite Self. And, 
indeed, the doctrine which limits the origin, existence, and value of 
all that is known about this sphere of experience to these needs, and 
which finds the sufficient account of all experience with nature in 
these forms of functioning, must always seem inadequate and even 
grotesque in the sight of the natural sciences. Both Nature and Spirit, 
thought Schelling, must be allowed to claim actual existence and 
equally real value; while at the same time philosophy must reconcile 
the seeming opposition of their claims and unite them in an har- 
monious and self-explanatory way. In some common substratum, 
in which, to adopt Hegel's sarcastic criticism, as in the darkness of 
the night "all cows are black," that is in the Absolute, as an 


Identical Basis of Differences, - - the reconciliation was to be accom- 

But the constructive idealistic movement, in which Fichte and 
Schelling bore so important a part, could not be satisfied with the 
positions reached by either of these two philosophers. Neither the 
physical and psychological sciences, nor the speculative interests of 
religion, ethics, art, and social life, permitted this movement to stop 
at this point. In all the subsequent developments of philosophy dur- 
ing the first half or three quarters of the nineteenth century, undoubt- 
edly the influence of Hegel was greatest of all individual thinkers. His 
motif and plan are revealed in his letter of November 2, 1800, to 
Schelling, namely, to transform what had hitherto been an ideal 
into a thoroughly elaborate system. And in spite of his obvious 
obscurities of thought and style, there is real ground for his claim to 
be the champion of the common consciousness. It is undoubtedly in 
Hegel's Ph'dnomenologie des Geistes (1807), that the distinctive fea- 
tures of the philosophy of the first half of the last century most 
clearly define themselves. The forces of reflection now abandon the 
abstract analytic method and positions of the Kantian Critique, and 
concentrate themselves upon the study of man's spiritual life as an 
historical evolution, in a more concrete, face-to-face manner. Two 
important and, in the main, valid assumptions underlie and guide 
this reflective study: (1) The Ultimate Reality, or principle of all 
realities, is Mind or Spirit, which is to be recognized and known in its 
essence, not by analysis into its formal elements (the categories), 
but as a living development; (2) those formal elements, or cate- 
gories to which Kant gave validity merely as constitutional forms 
of the functioning of the human understanding, represent, the rather, 
the essential structure of Reality. 

In spite of these true thoughts, fault was justly found by the par- 
ticular sciences with both the speculative method of Hegel, which 
consists in the smooth, harmonious, and systematic arrangement 
of conceptions in logical or ideal relations to one another; and also 
with the result, which reduces the Being of the World to terms of 
thought and dialectical processes merely, and neglects or overlooks 
the other aspects of racial experience. Therefore, the idealistic 
movement could not remain satisfied with the Hegelian dialectic. 
Especially did both the religious and the philosophical party revolt 
against the important thought underlying Hegel's philosophy of 
religion; namely, that "the more philosophy approximates to a 
complete development, the more it exhibits the same need, the same 
interest, and the same content, as religion itself." This, as they 
interpreted it, meant the absorption of religion in philosophy. 

Next after Hegel, among the great names of this period, stand 
the names of Herbart and Schopenhauer. The former contributes 


in an important way to the proper conception of the task and the 
method of philosophy, and influences greatly the development of 
psychology, both as a science that is pedagogic to philosophy, and as 
laying the basis for pedagogical principles and practice. But Herbart 
commits again the ancient fallacy, under the spell of which so much of 
the Kantian criticism was bound; and which identifies contradictions 
that belong to the imperfect or illusory conceptions of individual 
thinkers with insoluble antinomies inherent in reason itself. In spite 
of the little worth and misleading character of his view of perception, 
and the quite complete inadequacy of the method by which, at a 
single leap, he reaches the one all-explanatory principle of his philo- 
sophy, Schopenhauer made a most important contribution to the 
reflective thought of the century. It is true, as Kuno Fischer has 
said, that it seems to have occurred to Schopenhauer only twenty- 
five years after he had propounded his theory, that will, as it appears 
in consciousness, is as truly phenomenal as is intellect. It is also true 
that his theory of knowledge and his conception of Reality, as meas- 
ured by their power to satisfy and explain our total experience, are 
inflicted with irreconcilable contradictions. Neither can we accord 
firm confidence or high praise to the "Way of Salvation" which 
somehow Will can attain to follow by aesthetic contemplation and 
ascetic self-denial. Yet the philosophy of Schopenhauer rightly 
insists upon our Idealistic construction of Reality having regard to 
aspects of experience which his predecessors had quite too much 
neglected; and even its spiteful and exaggerated reminders of the 
facts which contradict the tendency of all Idealism to construct a 
smooth, regular, and altogether pleasing conception of the Being of 
the World, have been of great benefit to the development of the latter 
half of the nineteenth century. 

In estimating the thoughts and the products of modern Idealism 
we ought not to forget the larger multitude of thoughtful men, both 
in Germany and elsewhere, who have contributed toward shaping 
the course of reflection in the attempt to answer the problems which 
the critical philosophy left to the nineteenth century. It is a singu- 
lar comment upon the caprices of fame that, in philosophy as in sci- 
ence, politics, and art, some of those who have really reasoned most 
soundly and acutely, if not also effectively upon these problems, are 
little known even by name in the history of the philosophical develop- 
ment of the cetury. Among the earlier members of this group, did 
space permit, we should wish to mention Berger, Solger, Steffens, 
and others, who strove to reconcile the positions of a subjective ideal- 
ism with a realistic but pantheistic conception of the Being of the 
World. There are others, who like Weisse, I. H. Fichte, C. P. 
Fischer, and Braniss, more or less bitterly or moderately and reas- 
onably, opposed the method and the conclusions of the Hegelian dia- 


lectic. Still another group earned for themselves the supposedly 
opprobrious but decidedly vague title of " Dualists," by rejecting 
what they conceived to be the pantheism of Hegel. Still others, like 
Fries and Beneke and their successors, strove to parallel philosophy 
with the particular sciences by grounding it in an empirical but 
scientific psychology; and thus they instituted a line of closely con- 
nected development, to which reference has already been made. 

Hegel himself believed that he had permanently effected that 
reconciliation of the orthodox creed with the cognition of Ultimate 
Reality at which his dialectic aimed. In all such attempts at recon- 
ciliation three great questions are chiefly concerned: (1) the Being of 
God; (2) the nature of man; (3) the actual and the ideally satisfac- 
tory relations between the two. But, as might have been expected, 
a period of wild, irregular, and confused contention met the attempt 
to establish this claim. In this conflict of more or less noisy and 
popular as well as of thoughtful and scholastic philosophy, Hegelians 
of various degrees of fidelity, anti-Hegelians of various degrees of 
hostility, and ultra-Hegelians of various degrees of eccentricity, all 
took a valiant and conspicuous part. We cannot follow its history; 
but we can learn its lesson. Polemical philosophy, as distinguished 
from quiet, reflective, and critical but constructive philosophy involves 
a most uneconomical use of mental force. Yet out of this period of 
conflict, and in a measure as its result, there came a period of improved 
relations between science and philosophy and between philosophy and 
theology, which was the dawn, toward the close of the nineteenth 
century, of that better illumined day into the middle of which we 
hope that we are proceeding. 

Before leaving this idealistic movement in Germany, and else- 
where as influenced largely by German philosophy, one other name 
deserves mention. This name is that of Lotze, who combined ele- 
ments from many previous thinkers with those derived from his own 
studies and thoughts, - - the conceptions of mechanism as applied 
to physical existences and to psychical life, with the search for some 
monistic Principle that shall satisfy the aesthetical and ethical, as 
well as the scientific demands of the human mind. This variety of 
interests and of culture led to the result of his making important 
contributions to psychology, logic, metaphysics, and aesthetics. If 
we find his system of thinking as I think we must - - lacking in 
certain important elements of consistency and obscured in places by 
doubts as to his real meaning, this does not prevent us from assign- 
ing to Lotze a position which, for versatility of interests, genial 
quality of reflection and criticism, suggestiveness of thought and 
charm of style, is second to no other in the history of nineteenth 
century philosophical development. 

In France and in England the first quarter of the last century 


was far from being productive of great thinkers or great thoughts in 
the sphere of philosophy. De Biran (1766-1824), in several important 
respects the forerunner of modern psychology, after revolting from 
his earlier complacent acceptance of the vagaries of Condillac and 
Cabanis, made the discovery that the "immediate consciousness of 
self-activity is the primitive and fundamental principle of human 
cognition." Meantime it was only a little group of Academicians who 
were being introduced, in a somewhat superficial way, to the thoughts 
of the Scottish and the German idealistic Schools by Royer-Collard, 
Jouffroy, Cousin, and others. A more independent and characteristic 
movement was that inaugurated by Auguste Comte (1798-1857), 
who, having felt the marked influence of Saint-Simon when he was 
only a boy of twenty, in a letter to his friend Valat, in the year 1824, 
declares: "I shall devote my whole life and all my powers to the 
founding of positive philosophy." In spite of the impossibility of 
harmonizing with this point of view the vague and mystical elements 
which characterize the later thought of Comte, or with its carrying 
into effect the not altogether intelligent recognition of the synthetic 
activity of the mind (tout se reduit toujours a Her) and certain hints as 
to "first principles;" and in spite of the small positive contribution 
to philosophy which Comtism could claim to have made; it has in 
a way represented the value of two ideas. These are (1) the necessity 
for philosophy of studying the actual historical forces which have 
been at work and which are displayed in the facts of history; and 
(2) the determination not to go by mere unsupported speculation 
beyond experience in order to discover knowable Reality. There is, 
however, a kind of subtle irony in the fact that the word " Positivism " 
should have come to stand so largely for negative conclusions, in the 
very spheres of philosophy, morals, and religion where affirmative 
conclusions are so much desired and sought. 

That philosophy in Great Britain was in a nearly complete con- 
dition of decadence during the first half or three quarters of the 
nineteenth century was the combined testimony of writers from such 
different points of view as Carlyle, Sir William Hamilton, and John 
Stuart Mill. And yet these very names are also witnesses to the fact 
that this decadence was not quite complete. In the first quarter of 
the century Coleridge, although he had failed, on account of weakness 
both of mind and of character, in his attempt to reconcile religion to 
the thought of his own age, on the basis of the Kantian distinction be- 
tween reason and the intellect, had sowed certain seed-thoughts which 
became fertile in the soil of minds more vigorous, logical, and practi- 
cal than his own. This was, perhaps, especially true in America, where 
inquirers after truth were seeking for something more satisfactory 
than the French skepticism of the revolutionary and following period. 
Carlyle's mocking sarcasm was also not without wholesome effect. 


But it was Sir William Hamilton and John Stuart Mill whose 
thoughts exercised a more powerful formative influence over the 
minds of the younger men. The one was the flower of the Scottish 
Realism, the other of the movement started by Bentham and the 
elder Mill. 

That the Scottish Realism should end by such a combination 
with the skepticism of the critical philosophy as is implied in Ham- 
ilton's law of the relativity of all knowledge, is one of the most 
curious and interesting turns in the history of modern philosophy. 
And when this law was so interpreted by Dean Mansel in its appli- 
cation to the fundamental cognitions of religion as to lay the founda- 
tions upon which the most imposing structure of agnosticism was 
built by Herbert Spencer, surely the entire swing around the circle, 
from Kant to Kant again, has been made complete. The attempt of 
Hamilton failed, as every similar attempt must always fail. Neither 
speculative philosophy nor religious faith is satisfied with an ab- 
stract conception, about the correlate of which in Reality nothing 
is known or ever can be known. But every important attempt of 
this sort serves the double purpose of stimulating other efforts to 
reconstruct the answer to the problem of philosophy, on a basis of 
positive experience of an enlarged type; and also of acting as a real, 
if only temporary practical support to certain value- judgments 
which the faiths of morality, art, and religion both implicate and, 
in a measure, validate. 

The influence of John Stuart Mill, as it was exerted not only in 
his conduct of life while a servant of the East India Company, but 
also in his writings on Logic, Politics, and Philosophy, was, on the 
whole, a valuable contribution to his generation. In the additions 
which he made to the Utilitarianism of Bentham we have done, I 
believe, all that ever can be done in defense of this principle of ethics. 
And his posthumous confessions of faith in the ontological value of 
certain great conceptions of religion are the more valuable because of 
the nature of the man, and of the experience which is their source. 
Perhaps the most permanent contribution which Mill made to the 
development of philosophy proper, outside of the sphere of logic, 
ethics, and politics, was his vigorous polemical criticism of Hamil- 
ton's claim for the necessity of faith in an "Unconditioned" whose 
conception is "only a fasciculus of negations of the Conditioned in 
its opposite extremes, and bound together merely by the aid of 
language and their common character of incomprehensibility." 

The history of the development of philosophy in America during 
the nineteenth century, as during the preceding century, has been 
characterized in the main by three principal tendencies. These 
may be called the theological, the social, and the eclectic. From 
the beginning down to the present time the religious influence and 


the interest in political and social problems have been dominant. 
And yet withal, the student of these problems in the atmosphere 
of this country likes, in a way, to do his own thinking and to make 
his own choices of the thoughts that seem to him true and best 
fitted for the best form of life. In spite of the fact that the different 
streams of European thought have flowed in upon us somewhat 
freely, there has been comparatively little either of the adherence 
to schools of European philosophy or of the attempt to develop a 
national school. Doubtless the influence of English and Scottish 
thinking upon the academical circles of America was greatest for 
more than one hundred and fifty years after the gift in 1714 by 
Governor Yale of a copy of Locke's Essay to the college which bore 
his name, - - and especially upon the reflections and published 
works of Jonathan Edwards touching the fundamental problems 
of epistemology, ethics, and religion. During the early part of this 
century these views awakened antagonism from such writers as 
Dana, Whedon, Hazard, Nathaniel Taylor, Jeremiah Day, Henry P. 
Tappan, and other opponents of the Edwardean theology, and also 
from such advocates of so-called "free-thinking," as had derived 
their motifs and their views from English deistical writers like 
Shaftesbury, or from the skepticism of Hume. 

A more definite philosophical movement, however, which had 
established itself somewhat firmly in scholastic centres by the year 
1825, and which maintained itself for more than half a century, 
went back to the arrival in this country of John Witherspoon, in 
1768, to be the president of Princeton, bringing with him a library 
of three hundred books. It was the appeal of the Scottish School to 
the "plain man's consciousness" and to so-called "common sense," 
which was relied upon to controvert all forms of philosophy which 
seemed to threaten the foundations of religion and of the ethics 
of politics and sociology. But even during this period, which was 
characterized by relatively little independent thinking in scholastic 
circles, a more pronounced productivity was shown by such writers 
as Francis Wayland, and others; but, perhaps, especially by Laurens 
P. Hickok, whose works on psychology and cosmology deserve 
especial recognition: while in psychology, as related to philosophical 
problems, the principal names of this period are undoubtedly the 
presidents of Yale and Princeton, -- Noah Porter and James Mc- 
Cosh, - - both of whom (but especially the former) had their views 
modified by the more scientific psychology of Europe and the pro- 
founder thinking of Germany. 

It was Germany's influence, however, both directly and indirectly 
through Coleridge and a few other English writers, that caused a 
ferment of impressions and ideas which, in their effort to work them- 
selves clear, resulted in what is known as New England "Iran- 


scendentalism." In America this movement can scarcely be called 
definitely philosophical; much less can it be said to have resulted 
in a system, or even in a school, of philosophy. It must also be said 
to have been "inspired but not borrowed" from abroad. Its prin- 
cipal, if not sole, literary survival is to be found in the works of Emer- 
son. As expounded by him, it is not precisely Pantheism --certainly 
not a consistent and critical development of the pantheistic theory 
of the Being of the World; it is, rather, a vague, poetical, and pan- 
theistical Idealism of a decidedly mystical type. 

The introduction of German philosophy proper, in its nature form, 
and essential being, to the few interested seriously in critical and 
reflective thinking upon the ultimate problems of nature and of 
human life, began with the founding of the Journal of Speculative 
Philosophy, in 1867, under the direction of William T. Harris, then 
Superintendent of Schools in this city. 

With the work of Darwin, and his predecessors and successors, 
there began a mighty movement of thought which, although it is 
primarily scientific and more definitely available in biological science, 
has already exercised, and is doubtless destined to exercise in the 
future, an enormous influence upon philosophy. Indeed, w r e are 
already in the midst of the preliminary confusions and contentions, 
but most fruitful considerations and discoveries belonging to a 
so-called philosophy of evolution. 

This development has, in the sphere of systematic philosophy, 
reached its highest expression in the voluminous works produced 
through the latter half of the nineteenth century by Mr. Herbert 
Spencer, whose recent death seems to mark the close of the period 
we have under consideration. The metaphysical assumptions and 
ontological value of the system of Spencer, as he wished it to be 
understood and interpreted, have perhaps, though not unnaturally, 
been quite too much submerged in the more obvious expressions of 
its agnostic positivism. In its psychology, however, the assumption 
of "some underlying substance in contrast to all changing forms," 
distinguishes it from a pure positivism in a very radical way. But 
more especially in philosophy, the metaphysical postulate of a 
mysterious Unity of Force that somehow manages to reveal itself, 
and the law of its operations, to the developed cognition of the 
nineteenth century philosopher, however much it seems to involve 
the system in internal contradictions, certainly forbids that we 
should identify it with the positivism of Auguste Comte. In our 
judgment, however, it is in his ethical good sense and integrity of 
judgment, --a good sense and integrity which commits to ethics 
rather than to sociology the task of determining the highest type 
of human life, -- and in basing the conditions for the prevalence and 
the development of the highest type of life upon ethical principles 


and upon the adherence to ethical ideas, that Herbert Spencer will 
be found most clearly entitled to a lasting honor. 

III. The third number of our difficult tasks is to summarize the 
principal results, to inventory the net profits, as it were, of the devel- 
opment of philosophy during the nineteenth century. This task is 
made the more difficult by the heterogeneous nature and as yet 
unclassified condition of the development. With the quickening 
and diversifying of all kinds and means of intercourse, there has 
come the breaking-down of national schools and idiosyncrasies of 
method and of thought. In philosophy, Germany, France, Great 
Britain, and indeed, Italy, have come to intermingle their streams 
of influence; and from all these countries these streams have been 
flowing in upon America. In psychology, especially, as well as in all 
the other sciences, but also to some degree in philosophy, returning 
streams of influence from America have, during the last decade or 
two, been felt in Europe itself. 

It must also be admitted that the attempts at a reconstruction of 
systematic philosophy which have followed the rapid disintegration 
of the Hegelian system, and the enormous accumulations of new 
material due to the extension of historical studies and of the par- 
ticular sciences, -- including especially the so-called "new psycho- 
logy, " - have not as yet been fruitful of large results. In philo- 
sophy, as in art, politics, and even scientific theory, the spirit and 
the opportunity of the time are more favorable to the gathering of 
material and to the projecting of a bewildering variety of new opin- 
ions, or old opinions put forth under new names, than to that candid, 
patient, and prolonged reflection and balancing of judgment which 
a worthy system-building inexorably requires. The age of breaking up 
the old, without assimilating the new, has not yet passed away. And 
whatever is new, startling, large, even monstrous, has in many 
quarters the seeming preference, in philosophy's building as in other 
architecture. To the confusion which reigns even in scholastic 
circles, contributions have been arriving from the outside, from 
philosophers like Nietzsche, and from men great in literature like 
Tolstoi. Nor has the matter been helped by the more recent extreme 
developments of positivism and skepticism, which often enough, 
without any consciousness of their origin and without the respect 
for morality and religion which Kant always evinced, really go back 
to the critical philosophy. 

In spite of all this, however, the last two decades or more have 
shown certain hopeful tendencies and notable achievements, look- 
ing toward the reconstruction of systematic philosophy. In this 
attempt to bring order out of confusion, to enable calm, prolonged, 
and reflective thinking to build into its structure the riches of the 
new material which the evolution of the race has secured, a place 


of honor ought to be given to France, where so much has been done 
of late to blend with clearness of style and independence of thought 
that calm reflective and critical judgment which looks all sides of 
human experience sympathetically but bravely in the face. In 
psychology Ribot, and in philosophy, Fouillee, Reriouvier, Secretan, 
and others, deserve grateful recognition. No friend of philosophy 
can, I think, fail to recognize the probable benefits to be derived 
from that movement with which such names as Mach and Ostwald 
in Germany are connected, and which is sounding the call to the 
men of science to clear up the really distressing obscurity and con- 
fusion which has so long clung to their fundamental conceptions; 
and to examine anew the significance of their assumptions, with 
a view to the construction of a new and improved doctrine of the 
Being of the World. And if to these names we add those of the 
numerous distinguished investigators of psychology as pedagogic 
to philosophy, and, in philosophy, of Deussen, Eucken, von Hart- 
mann, Riehl, Wundt, and others, we may well affirm that new light 
will continue to break forth from that country which so powerfully 
aroused the whole Western World at the end of the eighteenth and 
beginning of the nineteenth centuries. In Great Britain the name 
and works of Thomas Hill Green have influenced the attempts at 
a reconstruction of systematic philosophy in a manner to satisfy at 
one and the same time both the facts and laws of science and the 
sesthetical, ethical, and religious ideals of the age, in a very consider- 
able degree. And in this attempt, both as it expresses itself in theo- 
retical psychology and in the various branches of philosophical 
discipline, writers like Bradley, Fraser, Flint, Hodgson, Seth, Stout, 
Ward, and others, have taken a conspicuous part. Nor are there 
wanting in Holland, Italy, and even in Sweden and Russia, thinkers 
equally worthy of recognition, and recognized, in however limited 
and unworthy fashion, in their own land. The names of those in 
America who have labored most faithfully, and succeeded best, in 
this enormous task of reconstructing philosophy in a systematic 
way, and upon a basis of history and of modern science, I do not 
need to mention; they are known, or they surely ought to be known, 
to us all. 

In attempting to summarize the gains of philosophy during the 
last hundred years, we should remind ourselves that progress in 
philosophy does not consist in the final settlement, and so in the 
''solving" of any of its great problems. Indeed, the relations of 
philosophy to its grounds in experience, and the nature of its method 
and of its ideal, are such that its progress can never be expected 
to put an end to itself. But the content of the total experience of 
humanity has been greatly enriched during the last century; and 
the critical and reflective thought of trained minds has been led 


toward a more profound and comprehensive theory of Reality, 
and toward a doctrine of values that shall be more available for the 
improvement of man's political, social, and religious life. 

In view of this truth respecting the limitations of systematic 
philosophy, I think we may hold that certain negative results, 
which are customarily adduced as unfavorable to the claims of 
philosophical progress, are really signs of improvement during the 
latter half of the nineteenth century. One is an increased spirit 
of reserve and caution, and an increased modesty of claims. This 
result is perhaps significant of riper wisdom and more trustworthy 
maturity. Kant believed himself to have established for philosophy 
a system of apodeictic conclusions, which were as completely forever 
to have displaced the old dogmatism as Copernicus had displaced 
the Ptolemaic astronomy. But the steady pressure of historical and 
scientific studies has made it increasingly difficult for any sane 
thinker to claim for any system of thinking such demonstrable val- 
idity. May we not hope that the students of the particular sciences, 
to whom philosophy owes so much of its enforced sanity and sane 
modesty, will themselves soon share freely of the philosophic spirit 
with regard to their own metaphysics and ethical and religious 
standpoints, touching the Ultimate Reality? Even when the recoil 
from the overweening self-satisfaction and crass complacency of the 
earlier part of the last century takes the form of melancholy, or of 
acute sadness, or even of a mild despair of philosophy, I am not sure 
that the last state of that man is not better than the first. 

In connection with this improvement in spirit, we may also note an 
improvement in the method of philosophy. The purely speculative 
method, with its intensely interesting but indefensible disregard of 
concrete facts, and of the conclusions of the particular sciences, is no 
longer in favor even among the most ardent devotees and advocates 
of the superiority of philosophy to those sciences. At the same time, 
philosophy may quite properly continue to maintain its position of 
independent critic, as well as of docile pupil, toward the particular 

In the same connection must be mentioned the hopeful fact that 
the last two or three decades have shown a decided improvement in 
the relations of philosophy toward the positive sciences. There are 
plain signs of late that the attitude of antagonism, or of neglect, 
which prevailed so largely during the second and third quarters of the 
nineteenth century, is to be replaced by one of friendship and mutual 
helpfulness. And, indeed, science and philosophy cannot long or 
greatly flourish without reciprocal aid, if by science we mean a true 
Wissenschaft and if we also mean to base philosophy upon our total 
experience. For science and philosophy are really engaged upon the 
same task, --to understand and to appreciate the totality of man's 


experience. They, therefore, have essential and permanent relations 
of dependence for material, for inspiration and correction, and for 
other forms of helpfulness. While, then, their respective spheres have 
been more clearly delimited during the last century, their inter- 
dependence has been more forcefully exhibited. Both of them have 
been developing a systematic exposition of the universe. Both 
of them desire to enlarge and deepen the conception of the Being of 
the World, as made known to the totality of human experience, in 
its Unity of nature and significance. We cannot believe that the end 
of the nineteenth century would sustain the charge which Fontenelle 
made in the closing years of the seventeenth century: " L' Academic 
des Sciences ne prcnd la nature que par petites parcelles." Science itself 
now bids us regard the Universe as a dynamical Unity, teleologically 
conceived, because in a process of evolution under the control of 
immanent ideas. Philosophy assumes the same point of view, rather 
at the beginning than at the end of defining its purpose; and so feels 
a certain glad leap at its heart-strings, and an impulse to hold out 
the hand to science, when it hears such an utterance as that of Poin- 
care: Ce n'est pas le mechanisme le vrai, le seul but ; c'est I'unite. 

Shall we not say, then, that this double-faced but wholly true 
lesson has been learned: namely, that the so-called philosophy of 
nature has no sound foundation and no safeguard against vagaries 
of every sort, unless it follows the lead of the positive sciences of 
nature; but that the sciences themselves can never afford a full 
satisfaction to the legitimate aspirations of human reason unless- they, 
too, contribute to the philosophy of nature - - writ large and con- 
ceived of as a real-ideal Unity. 

That nature, as known and knowable by man, is a great artist, 
and that man's sesthetical consciousness may be trusted as having 
a certain ontological value, is the postulate properly derived from the 
considerations advanced in the latest, and in some respects the most 
satisfactory, of the three Critiques of Kant. The ideal way of looking 
at natural phenomena \vhich so delighted the mind of Goethe has now 
been placed on broad and sound foundations by the fruitful indus- 
tries of many workmen, such as Karl Ernst von Baer and Charles 
Darwin, - - whose morphological and evolutionary conceptions of the 
universe have transformed the current conceptions of cosmic pro- 
cesses. But the world of physical and natural phenomena has thereby 
been rendered not less, but more, of a Cosmos, an orderly totality. 

In addition to these more general but somewhat vague evaluations 
of the progress of philosophy during the nineteenth century, we are 
certainly called upon to face the question whether, after all, any 
advance has been made toward the more satisfactory solution of the 
definite problems which the Kantian criticism left unsolved. To this 
question I believe an affirmative answer may be given in accordance 


with the facts of history. It will be remembered that the first of these 
problems was the epistemological. Certainly no little improvement 
has been made in the psychology of cognition. We can no longer 
repeat the mistakes of Kant, either with respect to the uncritical 
assumptions he makes regarding the origin of knowledge in the 
so-called "faculties" of the human mind or regarding the analysis 
of those faculties and their interdependent relations. It is not the 
Scottish philosophy alone which has led to the conclusion that, in the 
word of the late Professor Adamson, " What are called acts or states 
of consciousness are not rightly conceived of as having for their 
objects their own modes of existence as ways in which a subject is 
modified." And in the larger manner both science and philosophy, in 
their negations and their affirmations, and even in their points of 
view, have better grounds for the faith of human reason in its power 
progressively to master the knowledge of Reality than was the case 
a hundred years ago. Nor has the skepticism of the same era, whether 
by shallow scoffing at repeated failures, or by pious sighs over the 
limitations of human reason, or by critical analysis of the cognitive 
faculties "according to well-established principles," succeeded in 
limiting our speculative pretensions to the sphere of possible expe- 
rience, --in the Kantian meaning both of "principles" and of 
"experience." But what both science and philosophy are com- 
pelled to agree upon as a common underlying principle is this: The 
proof of the most fundamental presuppositions, as well as of the 
latest more scientifically established conclusions, of both science and 
philosophy, is the assistance they afford in the satisfactory explana- 
tion of the totality of racial experience. 

In the evolution of the ontological problem, as compared with the 
form in which it was left by the critical philosophy, the past century 
has also made some notable advances. To deny this would be to dis- 
credit the development of human knowledge so far as to say that we 
know no more about what nature is, and man is, than was known 
a hundred years ago. To say this, however, would not be to speak 
truth of fact. And here we may not unnaturally grow somewhat 
impatient with that metaphysical fallacy which places an impassable 
gulf between Reality and Experience. No reality is, of course, 
cognizable or believable by man which does not somehow show its 
presence in his total experience. But no growth of experience is pos- 
sible without involving increase of knowledge representing Reality. 
For Reality is no absent and dead, or statical, Ding-an-Sich. Cogni- 
tion itself is a commerce of realities. And are there not plain signs 
that the more thoughtful men of science are becoming less averse to 
the recognition of the truth of ontological philosophy; namely, that 
the deeper meaning of their own studies is grasped only when they 
recognize that they are ever face to face with what they call Energy 


and we call Will, and with what they call laws and we call Mind as 
significant of the progressive realization of immanent ideas. This 
Ultimate Reality is so profound that neither science nor philosophy 
will ever sound all its depths, and so comprehensive as more than to 
justify all the categories of both. 

Probably, on the whole, there has been less progress made toward a 
satisfactory solution of the problems offered by the value-judgments 
of ethics and religion, in the form in which these problems were left 
by the critical philosophy. The century has illustrated the truth of 
Falckenberg's statement: "In periods which have given birth to a 
skeptical philosophy, one never looks in vain for the complementary 
phenomenon of mysticism." Twice during the century the so-called 
"faith-philosophy," or philosophy of feeling, has been borne to the 
front, to raise a bulwark against the advancing hosts of agnostics 
occasioned in the first period by the negations of the Kantian criti- 
cism, and in the second by the positive conclusions of the physical 
and biological sciences. This form of protesting against the neglect 
or disparagement of important factors which belong to man's ses- 
thetical, ethical, and religious experience, is reasonable and must be 
heard. But the extravagances with which these neglected factors 
have been posited and appraised, to the neglect of the more defini- 
tively scientific and strictly logical, is to be deplored. The great work 
before the philosophy of the present age is the reconciliation of the 
historical and scientific conceptions of the Universe with the legiti- 
mate sentiments and ideals of art, morality, and religion. But surely 
neither rationalism nor "faith-philosophy" is justified in pouring out 
the living child with the muddy water of the bath. 

IV. The attempt to survey the present situation of philosophy, 
and to predict its immediate future, is embarrassed by the fact that 
we are all immersed in it, are a part of its spirit and present form. 
But if nearness has its embarrassments, it has also its benefits. Those 
who are amidst the tides of life may know better, in a way, how these 
tides are tending and what is their present strength, than do those 
who survey them from distant, cool, and exalted heights. "Fur 
jeden einzelnen bildet der Vater und der Sohn eine greijbare Kette von 
Lebensereignungen und Erfahrungen." The very intensely vital and 
formative but unformed condition of systematic philosophy its 
protoplasmic character contains promises of a new life. If we 
may believe the view of Hegel that the systematizing of the thought 
of any age marks the time when the peculiar living thought of that 
age is passing into a period of decay, we may certainly claim for our 
present age the prospect of a prolonged vitality. 

The nineteenth century has left us with a vast widening of the 
horizon, --outward into space, backward in time, inward toward the 
secrets of life, and downward into the depths of Reality. With this 


there has been an increase in the profundity of the conviction of the 
spiritual unity of the race. In the consideration of all of its problems 
in the immediate future and in the coming century - - so far as we can 
see forward into this century philosophy will have to reckon with 
certain marked characteristics of the human spirit which form at the 
same time inspiring stimuli and limiting conditions of its endeavors 
and achievements. Chief among these are the greater and more 
firmly established principles of the positive sciences, and the pre- 
valence of the historical spirit and method in the investigation of all 
manner of problems. These influences have given shape to the con- 
ception which, although it is as yet by no means in its final or even 
in thoroughly self-consistent form, is destined powerfully to affect 
our philosophical as well as our scientific theories. This conception is 
that of Development. But philosophy, considered as the product of 
critical and reflective thinking over the more ultimate problems of 
nature and of human life, is itself a development. And it is now, more 
than ever before, a development interdependently connected with all 
the other great developments. 

Philosophy, in order to adapt itself to the spirit of the age, must 
welcome and cultivate the freest critical inquiry into its own methods 
and results, and must cheerfully submit itself to the demand for 
evidences which has its roots in the common and essential experience 
of the race. Moreover, the growth of the spirit of democracy, which, 
on the one hand, is distinctly unfavorable to any system of philosophy 
whose tenets and formulas seem to have only an academic validity 
or a merely esoteric value, and which, on the other hand, requires 
for its satisfaction a more tenable, helpful, and universally appli- 
cable theory of life and reality, cannot fail, in my judgment, to influ- 
ence favorably the development of philosophy. In the union of the 
speculative and the practical; in the harmonizing of the interests of 
the positive sciences, with their judgments of fact and law, and the 
interests of art, morality, and religion, with their value- judgments 
and ideals; in the synthesis of the truths of Realism and Idealism, as 
they have existed hitherto and now exist in separateness or antago- 
nism; in a union that is not accomplished by a shallow eclecticism, but 
by a sincere attempt to base philosophy upon the totality of human 
experience; --in such a union as this must we look for the real pro- 
gress of philosophy in the coming century; 

Just now there seem to be two somewhat heterogeneous and not 
altogether well-defined tendencies toward the reconstruction of sys- 
tematic philosophy, both of which are powerful and represent real 
truths conquered by ages of intellectual industry and conflict. These 
two, however, need to be internally harmonized, in order to obtain a 
satisfactory statement of the development of the last century. They 
may be called the evolutionary and the idealistic. The one tendency 


lays emphasis on mechanism, the other on spirit. Yet it is most 
interesting to notice how many of the early workmen in the investi- 
gation of the principle of the conservation and correlation of energy 
took their point of departure from distinctly teleological and spiritual 
conceptions. " I was led," said Colding, to take an extreme case, - 
at the Natural Science Congress at Innsbruck, 1869, "to the idea of 
the constancy of national forces by the religious conception of life." 
And even Moleschott, in his Autobiography, posthumously published, 
declares: " I myself was well aware that the whole conception might 
be converted; for since all matter is a bearer of force, endowed with 
force or penetrated with spirit, it would be just as correct to call it 
a spiritualistic conception." On the other hand, the modern, better 
instructed Idealism is much inclined, both from the psychological and 
from the more purely philosophical points of view, to regard with 
duly profound respect all the facts and laws of that mechanism of 
Reality, which certainly is not merely the dependent construction 
of the human mind functioning according to a constitution that 
excludes it from Reality, but is rather the ever increasingly more 
trustworthy revealer of Reality. This tendency to a union of the 
claims of both Realism and Idealism is profoundly influencing the 
solution of each one of these problems which the Kantian criticism 
left to the philosophy of the nineteenth century. In respect of the 
epistemological problem, philosophy - - as I have already said - 
is not likely again to repeat the mistakes either of Kant or of the 
dogmatism which his criticism so effectually overthrew. It was a 
wise remark of the physician Johann Benjamin Erhard, in a letter 
dated May 19, 1794, a propos of Fichte: "The philosophy which 
proceeds from a single fundamental principle, and pretends to deduce 
everything from it, is and always will remain a piece of artificial 
sophistry: only that philosophy which ascends to the highest prin- 
ciple and exhibits everything else in perfect harmony with it, is the 
true one." This at least ought --one would say - - to have been 
made clear by the century of discussion over the epistemological 
problem, since Kant. You cannot deduce the Idea from the Reality, 
or the Reality from the Idea. The problem of knowledge is not, as 
Fichte held in the form of a fundamental assumption, an alternative 
of this sort. The Idea and Reality are, the rather already there, 
and to be recognized as in a living unity, in every cognitive experi- 
ence. Psychology is constantly adding something toward the pro- 
blem of cognition as a problem in synthesis; and is then in a way 
contributing to the better scientific understanding of the philo- 
sophical postulate which is the confidence of human reason in its 
ability, by the harmonious use of all its powers, progressively to 
reach a better and fuller knowledge of Reality. 

The ontological problem will necessarily always remain the un- 


solved, in the sense of the very incompletely solved problem of 
philosophy. But as long as human experience develops, and as long 
as philosophy bestows upon experience the earnest and candid 
efforts of reflecting minds, the solution of the ontological problem 
will be approached, but never fully reached. That Being of the 
World which Kant, in the negative and critical part of his work, 
left as an X, unknown and unknowable, the last century has filled 
with a new and far richer content than it ever had before. Especially 
has this century changed the conception of the Unity of the Uni- 
verse in such manner that it can never return again to its ancient 
form. On the one hand, this Unity cannot be made comprehensible 
in terms of any one scientific or philosophical principle or law. 
Science and philosophy are both moving farther and farther away 
from the hope of comprehending the variety and infinite manifold- 
ness of the Absolute in terms of any one side or aspect of man's 
complex experience. But, on the other hand, the confidence in this 
essential Unity is not diminished, but is the rather confirmed. As 
humanity itself develops, as the Selfhood of man grows in the 
experience of the world which is its own environment, and of the 
world within which it is its own true Self, humanity may reasonably 
hope to win an increased, and increasingly valid, cognition of the 
Being of the World as the Absolute Self. 

Closely connected, and in a way essentially identical with the 
ontological problem, is that of the origin, validity, and rational 
value of the ideas of humanity. May it not be said that the nine- 
teenth century transfers to the twentieth an increased interest in 
and a heightened appreciation of the so-called practical problems 
0f philosophy. Science and philosophy certainly ought to combine 
and are they not ready to combine? in the effort to secure 
a more nearly satisfactory understanding and solution of the pro- 
blems afforded by the aesthetical, ethical, and religious sentiments 
and ideals of the race. To philosophy this combination means that 
it shall be more fruitful than ever before in promoting the uplift and 
betterment of mankind. The fulfillment of the practical mission of 
philosophy involves the application of its conceptions and prin- 
ciples to education, politics, morals, as a matter of law and of cus- 
tom, and to religion as matter both of rational faith and of the con- 
duct of life. 

How, then, can this brief and imperfect sketch of the outline of the 
development of philosophy in the nineteenth century better come to 
a close than by words of encouragement and of exhortation as well. 
There are, in my judgment, the plainest signs that the somewhat 
too destructive and even nihilistic tendencies of the second and 
third quarters of the nineteenth century have reached their limit; 
that the strife of science and philosophy, and of both with religion. 


is lessening, and is being rapidly displaced by the spirit of mutual 
fairness and reciprocal helpfulness; and that reasonable hopes of 
a new and a splendid era of reconstruction in philosophy may be 
entertained. For I cannot agree with the dictum of a recent writer 
on the subject, that " the sciences are coming less and less to admit 
of a synthesis, and not at all of a synthetic philosopher." 

On the contrary, I hold that, with an increased confidence in the 
capacity of human reason to discover and validate the most secret 
and profound, as well as the most comprehensive, of truths, philo- 
sophy may well put aside some of its shyness and hesitancy, and may 
resume more of that audacity of imagination, sustained by ontological 
convictions, which characterized its work during the first half of the 
nineteenth century. And if the latter half of the twentieth century 
does for the constructions of the first half of the same century, what 
the latter half of the nineteenth century did for the first half of that 
century, this new criticism will only be to illustrate the way in which 
the human spirit makes every form of its progress. 

Therefore, a summons of all helpers, in critical but fraternal spirit, 
to this work of reconstruction, for which two generations of enormous 
advance in the positive sciences has gathered new material, and for 
the better accomplishment of which both the successes and the 
failures of the philosophy of the nineteenth century have prepared 
the men of the twentieth century, is the winsome and imperative 
voice of the hour. 



(Hall 6, September 21, 10 a. w.) 

SPEAKERS: PROFESSOR A. E. TAYLOR, McGill University, Montreal. 

SECRETARY: PROFESSOR- A. O. LOVEJOY, Washington University. 

The Chairman of the Section, Professor A. C. Armstrong, of Wes- 
leyan University, in opening the meeting referred to the contin- 
ued vitality of metaphysics as shown by its repeated revivals after 
the many destructive attacks upon it in the later modern times: 
he congratulated the Section on the fact that the principal speakers 
were scholars who had made notable contributions to metaphysical 




[Alfred Edward Taylor, Frothingham Professor of Philosophy, McGill Uni- 
versity, Montreal, Canada, b. Oundle, England, December 22, 1869. M.A. 
Oxford. Fellow, Merton College, Oxford, 1891-98, 1902- ; Lecturer in 
Greek and Philosophy, Owens College, Manchester, 1896-1903; Assistant 
Examiner to University of Wales, 1899-1903; Green Moral Philosophy Prize- 
man, Oxford, 1899; Frothingham Professor of Philosophy, McGill Uni- 
versity, 1903- ; Member Philosophical Society, Owens College, American 
Philosophical Association. Author of The Problem of Conduct; Elements of 

WHEN we seek to determine the place of metaphysics in the gen- 
eral scheme of human knowledge, we are at once confronted by an 
initial difficulty of some magnitude. There seems, in fact, to be no 
one universally accepted definition of our study, and even no very 
general consensus among its votaries as to the problems with w r hich 
the metaphysician ought to concern himself. This difficulty, serious 
as it is, does not, however, justify the suspicion that our science is, 
like alchemy or astrology, an illusion, and its high-sounding title 
a mere "idol of the market-place," one of those nomina rerum quae 
non sunt against which the Chancellor Bacon has so eloquently 
warned mankind. If it is hard to determine precisely the scope of 


metaphysics, it is no less difficult to do the same thing for the un- 
doubtedly legitimate sciences of logic and mathematics. And in all 
three cases the absence of definition merely shows that we are deal- 
ing with branches of knowledge which are, so to say, still in the 
making. It is not until the first principles of science are already 
firmly laid beyond the possibility of cavil that we must look for 
general agreement as to its boundary lines, though excellent work 
may be done, long before this point has been reached, in the estab- 
lishment of individual principles and deduction of consequences 
from them. To revert to the parallel cases I have just cited, many 
mathematical principles of the highest importance are formulated in 
the Elements of Euclid, and many logical principles in the Organon 
of Aristotle; yet it is only in our own time that it has become possible 
to offer a general definition either of logic or of mathematics, and 
even now it would probably be true to say that the majority of 
logicians and mathematicians trouble themselves very little about 
the precise definition of their respective studies. 

The state of our science then compels me to begin this address 
with a more or less arbitrary, because provisional, definition of the 
term metaphysics, for which I claim no more than that it may serve 
to indicate with approximate accuracy the class of problems which 
I shall have in view in my subsequent use of the word. By meta- 
physics, then, I propose to understand the inquiry which used 
formerly to be known as ontology, that is, the investigation into the 
general character which belongs to real Being as such, the science, in 
Aristotelian phraseology, of 6Wa y 6vra. Or, if the term " real " be 
objected against as ambiguous, I would suggest as an alternative 
account the statement that metaphysics is the inquiry into the general 
character by which the content of true assertions is distinguished 
from that of false assertions. The two definitions here offered will, 
I think, be found equivalent when it is borne in mind that what the 
second of them speaks of is exclusively the content which is asserted 
as true in a true proposition, not the process of true assertion, which, 
like all other processes in the highest cerebral centres, falls under 
the consideration of the vastly different sciences of psychology and 
cerebral physiology. Of the two equivalent forms of statement, the 
former has perhaps the advantage of making it most clear that it 
is ultimately upon the objective distinction between the reality and 
the unreality of that which is asserted for truth, and not upon any 
psychological peculiarity in the process of assertion itself that the 
distinction between true and untrue rests, while the second may be 
useful in guarding against misconceptions that might be suggested 
by too narrow an interpretation of the term " reality," such as, e. g., 
the identification of the " real" with what is revealed by sensuous 


From the acceptance of such a definition two important conse- 
quences would follow. (1) The first is that metaphysics is at once 
sharply discriminated from any study of the psychical process of 
knowledge, if indeed, there can be any such study distinct from the 
psychology of conception and belief, which is clearly not itself the 
science we have in view. For the psychological laws of the formation 
of concepts and beliefs are exemplified equally in the discovery and 
propagation of truth and of error. And thus it is in vain to look to 
them for any explanation of the difference between the two. Nor 
does the otherwise promising extension of Darwinian conceptions 
of the "struggle for existence" and the "survival of the fittest" 
to the field of opinions and convictions appear to affect this con- 
clusion. Such considerations may indeed assist us to understand 
how true convictions in virtue of their " usefulness" gradually come 
to be established and extended, but they require to presume the 
truth of these convictions as an antecedent condition of their " use- 
fulness" and consequent establishment. I should infer, then, that 
it is a mistake in principle to seek to replace ontology by a " theory 
of knowledge," and should even be inclined to question the very 
possibility of such a theory as distinct from metaphysics on the one 
hand and empirical psychology on the other. (2) The second con- 
sequence is of even greater importance. The inquiry into the gen- 
eral character by which the contents of true assertions are discrim- 
inated from the contents of false assertions must be carefully dis- 
tinguished from any investigation into the truth or falsehood of 
special assertions. To ask how in the end truth differs from falsehood 
is to raise an entirely different problem from that created by asking 
whether a given statement is to be regarded as true or false. The dis- 
tinction becomes particularly important when we hav to deal with 
what Locke would call assertions of "real existence," i. e., assertions 
as to the occurrence of particular events in the temporal order. All 
such assertions depend, in part at least, upon the admission of what 
we may style "empirical" evidence, the immediate unanalyzed 
witness of simple apprehension to the occurrence of an alleged 
matter of fact. Thus it would follow from our proposed conception 
of metaphysics that metaphysics is in principle incapable either of 
establishing or refuting any assertion as to the details of our immedi- 
ate experience of empirical fact, though it may have important bear- 
ings upon any theory of the general nature of true Being which we 
may seek to found upon our alleged experiences. In a word, if our 
conception be the correct one, the functions of a science of meta- 
physics in respect of our knowledge of the temporal sequence of 
events psychical and physical must be purely critical, never con- 
structive, a point to which I shall presently have to recur. 

One more general reflection, and we may pass to the consideration 


of the relation of metaphysics to the various already organzied 
branches of human knowledge more in detail. The admission that 
there is, or may be, such a study as we have described, seems of itself 
to involve the recognition that definite knowledge about the character 
of what really " is, " is attainable, and thus to commit us to a position 
of sharp opposition both to consistent and thorough-going agnos- 
ticism and also to the latent agnosticism of Kantian and neo-Kant- 
ian "critical philosophy." In recognizing ontology as a legitimate 
investigation, we revert in principle to the "dogmatist" position 
common, e. g., to Plato, to Spinoza and to Leibniz, that there is genu- 
ine truth which can be known, and that this genuine truth is not 
confined to statements about the process of knowing itself. In 
fact, the "critical" view that the only certain truth is truth about 
the process of knowing seems to be inherently self-contradictory. 
For the knowledge that such a proposition as, e. g., "I know only 
the laws of my own apprehending activity, " is true, would itself be 
knowledge not about the process of knowing but about the content 
known. Thus metaphysics, conceived as the science of the general 
character which distinguishes truth from falsehood, presupposes 
throughout all knowledge the presence of what we may call a " tran- 
scendent object," that is, a content which is never identical with 
the process by which it is apprehended, though it may no doubt be 
maintained that the two, the process and its content, if distinct, are 
yet not ultimately separable. That they are in point of fact not 
ultimately separable would seem to be the doctrine which, under 
various forms of statement, is common to and characteristic of all the 
"idealistic" systems of metaphysics. So much then in defense of a 
metaphysical point of view which seems to be closely akin to that 
of Mr. Bradley and of Professor Royce, to mention only two names 
of contemporary philosophers, and which might, I think, for the 
purpose of putting it in sharp opposition to the " neo-Kantian " 
view, not unfairly be called, if it is held to need a name, "neo- 

In passing on to discuss in brief the nature of the boundary lines 
which divide metaphysics from other branches of study, it seems 
necessary to start with a clear distinction between the "pure" or 
"formal" and the "applied" or "empirical" sciences, the more so 
as in the loose current employment of language the name "science" 
is frequently given exclusively to the latter. In every-day life, when 
we are told that a certain person is a "man of science," or as the 
detestable jargon of our time likes to say, a "scientist, " we expect to 
find that he is, e. g., a geologist, a chemist, a biologist, or an electrician. 
We should be a little surprised to find on inquiry that our " man of 
science" was a pure mathematician, and probably more than a little 
to learn that he was a formal logician. The distinction between the 


pure and the empirical sciences may be roughly indicated by saying 
that the latter class comprises all those sciences which yield infor- 
mation about the particular details of the temporal order of events 
physical and psychical, whereas the pure sciences deal solely with the 
general characteristics either of all truths, or of all truths of some 
well-defined class. More exactly we may say that the marks by 
which an empirical is distinguished from a pure science are two. 
(1) The empirical sciences one and all imply the presence among 
their premises of empirical propositions, that is, propositions which 
assert the actual occurrence of some temporal fact, and depend upon 
the witness of immediate apprehension, either in the form of sense- 
perception or in that of what is commonly called self-consciousness. 
In the vague language made current by Kant, they involve an appeal 
to some form of unanalyzed "intuition." The pure sciences, on the 
other hand, contain no empirical propositions either among their pre- 
mises or their conclusions. The principles which form their premises 
are self-evidently true propositions, containing no reference to the 
actual occurrence of any event in the temporal order, and thus in- 
volving no appeal to any form of "intuition." And the conclusions 
established in a pure science are all rigidly logical deductions from 
such self-evident premises. That the universality of this distinction 
is still often overlooked even by professed writers on scientific method 
seems explicable by two simple considerations. On the one hand, it 
is easy to overlook the important distinction between a principle 
which is self-evident, that is, which cannot be denied without explicit 
falsehood, and a proposition affirmed on the warrant of the senses, 
because, though its denial cannot be seen to be obviously false, 
the senses appear on each fresh appeal to substantiate the asser- 
tion. Thus the Euclidean postulate about parallels was long falsely 
supposed to possess exactly the same kind of self-evidence as 
the dictum de omni and the principle of identity which are part 
of the foundations of all logic. And further Kant, writing under 
the influence of this very confusion, has given wide popularity to 
the view that the best known of the pure sciences, that of mathe- 
matics, depends upon the admission of empirical premises in the 
form of an appeal to intuition of the kind just described. Fortunately 
the recent developments of arithmetic at the hands of such men 
as Weierstrass, Cantor, and Dedekind seem to have definitely refuted 
the Kantian view as far as general arithmetic, the pure science of 
number, is concerned, by proving that one and all of its propositions 
are analytic in the strict sense of the word, that is, that they are 
capable of rigid deduction from self-evident premises, so that, in 
what regards arithmetic, we may say with Schroder that the famous 
Kantian question " how are synthetic judgments a priori possible? " 
is now known to be meaningless. As regards geometry, the case ap- 


pears to a non-mathematician like myself more doubtful. Those 
who hold with Schroder that geometry essentially involves, as Kant 
thought it did, an appeal to principles not self-evident and depend- 
ent upon an appeal to sensuous "intuition," are logically bound 
to conclude with him that geometry is an " empirical," or as W. K. 
Clifford called it, a "physical" science, different in no way from 
mechanics except in the relative paucity of the empirical premises 
presupposed, and to class it with the applied sciences. On the other 
hand, if Mr. Bertrand Russell should be successful in his promised 
demonstration that all the principles of geometry are deducible from 
a few premises which include nothing of the nature of an appeal to 
sensuous diagrams, geometry too would take its place among the 
pure sciences, but only on condition of our recognizing that its 
truths, like those of arithmetic, are one and all, as Leibniz held, 
strictly analytical. Thus we obtain as a first distinction between the 
pure and the empirical sciences the principle that the propositions 
of the former class are all analytical, those of the latter all synthetic. 
It is not the least of the services which France is now rendering to 
the study of philosophy that we are at last being placed by the 
labors of M. Couturat in a position to appreciate at their full worth 
the views of the first and greatest of German philosophers on this 
distinction, and to understand how marvelously they have been 
confirmed by the subsequent history of mathematics and of logic. 

(2) A consequence of this distinction is that only the pure or 
formal sciences can be matter of rigid logical demonstration. Since 
the empirical or applied sciences one and all contain empirical pre- 
mises, i. e., premises which we admit as true only because they have 
always appeared to be confirmed by the appeal to " intuition," 
and not because the denial of them can be shown to lead to false- 
hood, the conclusions to which they conduct us must one and all 
depend, in part at least, upon induction from actual observation of 
particular temporal sequences. This is as much as to say that all 
propositions in the applied sciences involve somewhere in the course 
of the reasoning by which they are established the appeal to the 
calculus of Probabilities, which is our one method of eliciting general 
results from the statistics supplied by observation or experiment. 
That this is the case with the more concrete among such applied 
sciences has long been universally acknowledged. That it is no less 
true of sciences of such wide range as mechanics may be said, I 
think, to have been definitely established in our own day by the 
work of such eminent physicists as Kirchhoff and Mach. In fact, 
the recent developments of the science of pure number, to which 
reference has been made in a preceding paragraph, combined with 
the creation of the "descriptive " theory of mechanics, may fairly 
be said to have finally vindicated the distinction drawn by Leibniz 


long ago between the truths of reason and the truths of empirical 
fact, a distinction which the Kantian trend of philosophical specu- 
lation tended during the greater part of the nineteenth century to 
obscure, while it was absolutely ignored by the empiricist opponents 
of metaphysics both in England and in Germany. The philosoph- 
ical consequences of a revival of the distinction are, I conceive, of 
far-reaching importance. On the one side, recognition of the em- 
pirical and contingent character of all general propositions estab- 
lished by induction appears absolutely fatal to the current mechan- 
istic conception of the universe as a realm of purposeless sequences 
unequivocally determined by unalterable "laws of nature," a result 
which has in recent years been admirably illustrated for the Eng- 
lish-speaking world by Professor Ward's well-known Gifford lectures 
on "Naturalism and Agnosticism." Laws of physical nature, on the 
empiristic view of applied science, can mean no more than observed 
regularities, obtained by the application of the doctrine of chances, 
regularities which we are indeed justified in accepting with con- 
fidence as the basis for calculation of the future course of temporal 
sequence, but which we have no logical warrant for treating as ulti- 
mate truths about the final constitution of things. Thus, for exam- 
ple, take the common assumption that our physical environment 
is composed of a multitude of particles each in every respect the 
exact counterpart of every other. Reflection upon the nature of 
the evidence by which this conclusion, if supported at all, has to 
be supported, should convince us that at most all that the state- 
ment ought to mean is that individual differences between the ele- 
mentary constituents of the physical world need not be allowed 
for in devising practical formulae for the intelligent anticipation of 
events. When the proposition is put forward as an absolute truth 
and treated as a reason for denying the ultimate spirituality of the 
world, we are well within our rights in declining the consequence 
on the logical ground that conclusions from an empirical premise 
must in their own nature be themselves empirical and contingent. 

On the other hand, the extreme empiricism which treats all know- 
ledge whatsoever as merely relative to the total psychical state 
of the knower, and therefore in the end problematic, must, I appre- 
hend, go down before any serious investigation into the nature of 
the analytic truths of arithmetic, a consequence which seems to be 
of some relevance in connection with the philosophic view popularly 
known as Pragmatism. Thus I should look to the coming regeneration 
of metaphysics, of which there are so many signs at the moment, on 
the one hand, for emphatic insistence on the right, e. g., of physics 
and biology and psychology to be treated as purely empirical 
sciences, and as such freed from the last vestiges of any domination 
by metaphysical presuppositions and foregone conclusions, and on 


the other, for an equally salutary purgation of formal studies like 
logic and arithmetic from the taint of corruption by the irrelevant 
intrusion of considerations of empirical psychology. 

We cannot too persistently bear in mind that there is, correspond- 
ing to the logical distinction between the analytic and the synthetic 
proposition, a deep and broad general difference between the wants 
of our nature ministered to by the formal and the applied sciences 
respectively. The formal sciences, incapable of adding anything to 
our detailed knowledge of the course of events, as we have seen, 
enlighten us solely as to the general laws of interconnection by which 
all conceivable systems of true assertions are permeated and bound 
together. In a different connection it would be interesting to de- 
velop further the reflection that the necessity of appealing to such 
formal principles in all reasoning about empirical matters of fact 
contains the explanation of the famous Platonic assertion that the 
"Idea of Good" or supreme principle of organization and order in 
the universe, is itself not an existent, but something I eVc/cetva TT/S 
ovo-ias, "transcending even existence," and the very similar declara- 
tion of Hegel that the question whether "God "--in the sense of 
such a supreme principle exists is frivolous, inasmuch as existence 
(Daseiri) is a category entirely inadequate to express the Divine 
nature. For my present purpose it is enough to remark that the 
need to which the formal sciences minister is the demand for that 
purely speculative satisfaction which arises from insight into the 
order of interconnection between the various truths which compose 
the totality of true knowledge. Hence it seems a mistake to say, as 
some theorists have done, that were we born with a complete know- 
ledge of the course of temporal sequences throughout the universe, 
and a faultless memory, we should have no need of logic or meta- 
physics, or in fact of inference. For even a mind already in possession 
of all true propositions concerning the course of events, would still 
lack one of the requisites for complete intellectual satisfaction 
unless it were also aware, not only of the individual truths, but of 
the order of their interdependence. What Aristotle said long ago 
with reference to a particular instance may be equally said univers- 
ally of all our empirical knowledge; "even if we stood on the 
moon and saw the earth intercepting the light of the sun, we should 
still have to ask for the reason why.' 1 The purposes ministered to 
by the empirical sciences, on the other hand, always include some re- 
ference to the actual manipulation in advance by human agency of 
the stream of events. We study mechanics, for instance, not merely 
that we may perceive the interdependence of truths, but that we 
may learn how to maintain a system of bodies in equilibrium, or how 
to move masses in a given direction with a given momentum. Hence 
it is true of applied science, though untrue of science as a whole, that 


it would become useless if the whole past and future course of events 
were from the first familiar to us. And, incidentally it may be ob- 
served, it is for the same reason untrue of inference, though true of 
inductive inference, that it is essentially a passage from the known 
to the unknown. 

In dealing with the relation of metaphysics to the formal sciences 
generally, the great difficulty which confronts us is that of determin- 
ing exactly the boundaries which separate one from another. Among 
such pure sciences we have by universal admission to include at 
least two, pure formal logic and pure mathematics, as distinguished 
from the special applications of logic and mathematics to an empiri- 
cal material. Whether we ought also to recognize ethics and sesthet- 
ics, in the sense of the general determination of the nature of the 
good and the beautiful, as non-empirical sciences, seems to be a more 
difficult question. It seems clear, for instance, that ethical discus- 
sions, such as bulk so largely in our contemporary literature, as to what 
is the right course of conduct under various conditions, are concerned 
throughout with an empirical material, namely, the existing pecu- 
liarities of human nature as we find it, and must therefore be regarded 
as capable only of an empirical and therefore problematic solution. 
Accordingly I was at one time myself tempted to regard ethics as 
a purely empirical science, and even published a lengthy treatise 
in defense of that point of view and in opposition to the whole 
Kantian conception of the possibility of a constructive Metaphysik 
der Sitten. It seems, however, possible to hold that in the question 
"What do we mean by good?" as distinguished from the question 
" What in particular is it right to do? " there is no more of a reference 
to the empirical facts of human psychology than in the question 
"What do we mean by truth?" and that there must therefore be 
a non-empirical answer to the problem. The same would of course 
hold equally true of the question "What is beauty?" If there are, 
however, such a pure science of ethics and again of aesthetics, it 
must at least be allowed that for the most part these sciences are 
still undiscovered, and that the ethical and sesthetical results hitherto 
established are in the main of an empirical nature, and this must 
be my excuse for confining the remarks of the next two paragraphs 
to the two great pure sciences of which the general principles may 
be taken to be now in large measure known. 

That metaphysics and logic should sometimes have been absolutely 
identified, as for instance by Hegel, will not surprise us when we 
consider how hard it becomes on the view here defended to draw any 
hard and fast boundary line between them. For metaphysics, accord- 
ing to this conception of its scope, deals with the formulation of the 
self-evident principles implied, in there being such a thing as truth 
and the deductions which these principles warrant us in drawing. 


Thus it might be fairly said to be the supreme science of order, and 
it would not be hard to show that all the special questions commonly 
included in its range, as to the nature of space, time, causation, con- 
tinuity, and so forth, are all branches of the general question, how 
many types of order among concepts are there, and what is their 
nature. A completed metaphysics would thus appear as the realiza- 
tion of Plato's splendid conception of dialectic as the ultimate reduc- 
tion of the contents of knowledge to order by their continuous de- 
duction from a supreme principle (or, we may add, principles). Now 
such a view seems to make it almost impossible to draw any ulti- 
mate distinction between logic and metaphysics. For logic is strictly 
the science of the mutual implication of propositions, as we see as 
soon as we carefully exclude from it all psychological accretions. In 
the question what are the conditions under which one proposition 
or group of propositions imply another, we exhaust the whole scope 
of logic pure and proper, as distinguished from its various empirical 
applications. This is the important point which is so commonly 
forgotten when logic is defined as being in some way a study of " psy- 
chical processes," or when the reference to the presence of "minds" 
in which propositions exist, is intended into logical science. We can- 
not too strongly insist that for logic the question so constantly raised 
in a multitude of text-books, what processes actually take place when 
we pass from the assertion of the premises to the assertion of the 
conclusion, is an irrelevant one, and that the only logical problem 
raised by inference is whether the assertion of the premises as true 
warrants the further assertion of the conclusion, supposing it to be 
made. (At the risk of a little digression I cannot help pointing out that 
the confusion between a logical and a psychological problem is com- 
mitted whenever we attempt, as is so often done, to make the self- 
evidence of a principle identical with our psychological inability to 
believe the contradictory. From the strictly logical point of view, 
all that is to be said about the two sides of such an ultimate contra- 
diction is that the one is true and the other is false. Whether it is 
or is not possible, as a matter of psychical fact for me to affirm with 
equal conviction, both sides of a contradiction, knowing that I am 
doing so, is a question of empirical psychology which is possibly 
insoluble, and at any rate seems not to have received from the 
psychologists the attention it deserves. But the logician, so far as 
I can see, has no interest as a logician in its solution. For him it 
would still be the case even though all mankind should actually and 
consciously affirm both sides of a given contradiction, that one of the 
affirmations would be true, and the other untrue.) Logic thus seems 
to become either the whole or an integral part of the science of order, 
and there remain only two possible ways of distinguishing it from 
metaphysics. It might be suggested that logical order, the order of 


implication between truths, is only one species of a wider genus, 
order in general by the side, for example, of spatial, temporal, and 
numerical order, and thus that logic is one subordinate branch of 
the wider science of metaphysics. Such a view, of course, implies 
that there are a plurality of ultimately independent forms of order 
irreducible to a single type. Whether this is the case, I must confess 
myself at present incompetent to decide, though the signal success 
with which the principles of number have already been deduced 
from the fundamental definitions and axioms of symbolic logic, and 
number itself defined, as by Mr. Russell, in terms of the purely logical 
concept of class-relation, seems to afford some presumption to the 
contrary. Or it may be held that the difference is purely one of the 
degree of completeness with which the inquiry into order is pursued. 
Thus the ordinary symbolic logic of what Schroder has called the 
" identical calculus," or "calculus of domains," consists of a series 
of deductions from the fundamental concepts of class and number, 
identical equality, totality or the "logical 1," zero or the null-class, 
and the three principles of identity, subsumption, and negation. The 
moment you cease to accept these data in their totality as the given 
material for your science, and to inquire into their mutual coherence, 
by asking for instance whether any one of them could be denied, 
and yet a body of consistent results deduced from the rest, your 
inquiry, it might be said, becomes metaphysics. So, again, the dis- 
cussion of the well-known contradictions which arise when we try to 
apply these principles in their entirety and without modification to 
classes of classes instead of classes of individuals, or of the problem 
raised by Peano and Russell, whether the assertions "Socrates is 
a man" and "the Greeks are men" affirm the same or a different 
relation between their subject and predicate (which seems indeed to 
be the same question differently stated), would generally be allowed 
to be metaphysical. And the same thing seems to be equally true 
of the introduction of time-relations into the interpretation of our 
symbols for predication employed by Boole in his treatment of 
hypothetical, and subsequently adopted by his successors as the 
foundation of the "calculus of equivalent statements." 

However we may decide such questions, we seem at least driven 
by their existence to the recognition of two important conclusions. 
(1) The relation between logical and metaphysical problems is so close 
that you cannot in consistency deny the possibility of a science of 
metaphysics unless you are prepared with the absolute skeptic to 
go the length of denying the possibility of logic also, and reducing 
the first principles of inference to the level of formulae which have 
happened hitherto to prove useful but are, for all we know, just as 
likely to fail us in future application as not. (Any appeal to the 
doctrine of chances would be out of place here, as that doctrine is 


itself based on the very principles at stake.) (2) The existence of 
fundamental problems of this kind which remained almost or wholly 
unsuspected until revealed in our own time by the creation of a science 
of symbolic logic should console us if ever we are tempted to suspect 
that metaphysics is at any rate a science in which all the main con- 
structive work has already been accomplished by the great thinkers 
of the past. To me it appears, on the contrary, that the recent enor- 
mous developments in the purely formal sciences of logic and mathe- 
matics, with the host of fundamental problems they open up, give 
promise of an approaching era of fresh speculative construction 
which bids fair to be no less rich in results than any of the great 
"golden" periods in the past history of our science. Indeed, but 
that I would avoid the slightest suspicion of a desire to advertise 
personal friends, I fancy I might even venture to name some of those 
to whom we may reasonably look for the work to be done. 

Of the relation of metaphysics to pure mathematics it would be 
impertinent for any but a trained mathematician to say very much. 
I must therefore be content to point out that the same difficulty 
in drawing boundary lines meets us here as in the case of logic. Not 
so long ago this difficulty might have been ignored, as it still is by too 
many writers on the philosophy of science. Until recently mathematics 
would have been thought to be adequately defined as the science of 
numerical and quantitative relations, and adequatel} 7 distinguished 
from metaphysics by the non-quantitative and non-numerical char- 
acter of the latter, though it would probably have been admitted that 
the problem of the definition of quantity and number themselves is 
a metaphysical one. But in the present state of our knowledge such 
an account seems doubly unsatisfactory. On the one hand, we have 
to recognize the existence of branches of mathematics, such as the 
so-called descriptive geometry, which are neither quantitative nor 
numerical, and, on the other, quantity as distinct from number appears 
to play no part in mathematical science, while number itself, thanks 
to the labors of such men as Cantor and Dedekind, seems, as I have 
said before, to be known now to be only a special type of order in 
a series. Thus there appears to be ground for regarding serial order 
as the fundamental category of mathematics, and we are thrown back 
once more upon the difficult task of deciding how many ultimately 
irreducible types of order there may be before we can undertake any 
precise discrimination between mathematical and metaphysical 
science. However we may regard the problem, it is at least certain 
that the recent researches of mathematicians into the meaning of 
such concepts as continuity and infinity have, besides opening up new 
metaphysical problems, done much to transfigure the familiar ones, 
as all readers of Professor Royce must be aware. For instance I 
imagine all of us here present, even the youngest, were brought up on 


the Aristotelian doctrine that there is and can be no such thing as an 
actually existing infinite collection, but which of us would care to 
defend that time-honored position to-daj'? Similarly with continuity 
all of us were probably once on a time instructed that whereas " quan- 
tity" is continuous, number is essentially "discrete," and is indeed 
the typical instance of what we mean by the non-continuous. To-day 
we know that it is in the number-series that we have our one certain 
and familiar instance of a perfect continuum. Still a third illustration 
of the transforming light which is thrown upon old standing meta- 
physical puzzles by the increasing formal development of mathe- 
matics may be found in the difficulties attendant upon the conception 
of the " infinitely little," once regarded as the logical foundation of 
the so-called Differential Calculus. With the demonstration, which 
may be found in Mr. Russell's important work, that "infinitesimal," 
unlike "infinite," is a purely relative term, and that there are no 
infinitesimal real numbers, the supposed logical significance of the 
concept seems simply to disappear. Instances of this kind could easily 
be multiplied almost indefinitely, but those already cited should be 
sufficient to show how important are the metaphysical results which 
may be anticipated from contemporary mathematical research, and 
how grave a mistake it would be to regard existing metaphysical con- 
struction, e. g., that of the Hegelian system, as adequate in principle 
to the present state of our organized knowledge. In fact, all the mate- 
rials for a new Kategorienlehre, which may be to the knowledge of our 
day what Hegel's Logic was to that of eighty years ago, appear to lie 
ready to hand when it may please Providence to send us the meta- 
physician who knows how to avail himself of them. The proof, given 
since this address was delivered, by E. Zermelo, that every assem- 
blage can be well ordered, is an even more startling illustration of 
the remarks in the text. 

It remains to say something of the relation of metaphysical specu- 
lation to the various sciences which make use of empirical premises. 
On this topic I maybe allowed to be all the more brief, as I have quite 
recently expressed my views at fair length in an extended treatise 
(Elements of Metaphysics, Bks. 3 and 4), and have nothing of conse- 
quence to add to what has been there said. The empirical sciences, 
as previously defined, appear to fall into two main classes, distin- 
guished by a difference which corresponds to that often taken in the 
past as the criterion by which science is to be separated from philo- 
sophy. We may study the facts of temporal sequence either with a 
view to the actual control of future sequences or with a view to 
detecting under the sequence some coherent purpose. It is in the 
former way that we deal with facts in mechanics, for instance, or in 
chemistry, in the latter that we treat them when we study history for 
the purpose of gaining insight into national aims and character. We 


may, if we please, with Professor Royce, distinguish the two attitudes 
toward fact as the attitude respectively of description and of appre- 
ciation or evaluation. Now as regards the descriptive sciences, the 
position to which, as I believe, metaphysicians are more and more 
tending is that here metaphysics has, strictly speaking, no right at all 
to interfere. Just because of the absence from metaphysics itself of all 
empirical premises, it can be no business of the metaphysician to 
determine what the course of events will be or to prescribe to the 
sciences what methods and hypotheses they shall employ in the w r ork 
of such determination. Within these sciences any and every hypothe- 
sis is sufficiently justified, whatever its nature, so long as it enables 
us more efficiently than any other to perform the actual task of calcu- 
lation and prediction. And it was owing to neglect of this caution 
that the Natur philosophic of the early nineteenth century speedily fell 
into a disrepute fully merited by its ignorant presumption. As regards 
the physical sciences, the metaphysician has indeed by this time 
probably learned his lesson. We are not likely to-day to repeat the 
mistake of supposing that it is for us as metaphysicians to dictate 
what shall be the physicist's or chemist's definition of matter or mass 
or elementary substance or energy, or how he shall formulate the 
laws of motion or of chemical composition. Here, at any rate, we can 
see that the metaphysician's work is done when his analysis has made 
it clear that we are dealing with no self-evident truths such as the 
laws of number, but with inductive, and therefore problematic and 
provisional results of empirical assumptions as to the course of facts, 
assumptions made not because of their inherent necessity, but because 
of their practical utility for the special task of calculation. It is only 
when such empirical assumptions are treated as self-evident axioms, 
in fact when mechanical science gives itself out as a mechanistic 
philosophy, that the metaphysician obtains a right to speak, and then 
only for the purpose of showing by analysis that the presence of the 
empirical postulates which is characteristic of the natural sciences of 
itself excludes their erection into a philosophy of first principles. 

What is important in this connection is that we should recognize 
quite clearly that psychology stands in this respect on precisely the 
same logical footing as physics or chemistry. It is tempting to sup- 
pose that in psychology, at any rate, we are dealing throughout with 
absolute certainties, realities which " consciousness " apprehends just 
as they are without any of that artificial selection and construction 
which, as we are beginning to see, is imposed upon the study of physi- 
cal nature by the limitations of our purpose of submitting the course 
of events to calculation and manipulation. And it is a natural conse- 
quence of this point of view to infer that since psychology deals 
directly with realities, it must be taken as the foundation of the meta- 
physical constructions which aim at understanding the general char- 


acter of the real as such. The consequence, indeed, disappears at once 
if the views maintained in this address as to the intimate relation of 
metaphysics and logic, and the radical expulsion from logic of all 
discussion of mental processes as such, be admitted. But it is still 
important to note that the premises from which the conclusion in 
question was drawn are themselves false. We must never allow our- 
selves to forget that, as the ever-increasing domination of psychology 
by the highly artificial methods of observation and experiment intro- 
duced by Fechner and Wundt is daily making more apparent, 
psychology itself, like physics, deals not directly with the concrete 
realities of individual experience, but with an abstract selected from 
that experience, or rather a set of artificial symbols only partially 
corresponding with the realities symbolized, and devised for the spe- 
cial object of submitting the realm of mental sequences to mathemat- 
ical calculation. We might, in fact, have based this inference upon 
the single reflection that every psychological "law" is obtained, like 
physical laws, by the statistical method of elimination of individual 
peculiarities, and the taking of an average from an extended series 
of measurements. For this very reason, no psychological law can 
possibly describe the unique realities of individual experience. We 
have in psychology, as in the physical sciences, the duty of suspecting 
exact correspondence between the single case and the general "law" 
to be of itself proof of error somewhere in the course of our computa- 
tion. These views, which I suppose I learned in the first instance from 
Mr. F. H. Bradley's paper called A Defence of Phenomenalism in 
Psychology, may now, I think, be taken as finally established beyond 
doubt by the exhaustive analysis of Professor Miinsterberg's Grund- 
zilge der Psychologie. They possess the double advantage of freeing 
the psychologist once for all from any interference by the meta- 
physician in the prosecution of his proper study, and delivering 
metaphysics from the danger of having assumptions whose sole justi- 
fication lies in their utility for the purpose of statistical computation 
thrust upon it as self-evident principles. For their full discussion I 
may perhaps be allowed to refer to the first three chapters of the 
concluding book of my Elements of Metaphysics. 

When we turn to the sciences which aim at the appreciation or 
evaluation of empirical fact, the case seems rather different. It may 
fairly be regarded as incumbent on the metaphysician to consider 
how far the general conception he has formed of the character of 
reality can be substantiated and filled in by our empirical knowledge 
of the actual course of temporal sequence. And thus the way seems 
to lie open to the construction of what may fairly be called a Philo- 
sophy of Nature and History. For instance, a metaphysician who has 
rightly or wrongly convinced himself that the universe can only be 
coherently conceived as a society of souls or wills may reasonably go 


on to ask what views seem best in accord with our knowledge of 
human character and animal intelligence as to the varying degrees of 
organized intelligence manifested by the members of such a hierarchy 
of souls, and the nature and amount of mutual intercourse between 
them. And again, he may fairly ask what general way of conceiving 
what we loosely call the inanimate w r orld would at once be true to 
fundamental metaphysical principles and free from disagreement 
with the actual state of our physical hypotheses. Only he will need to 
bear in mind that since conclusions on these points involve appeal 
to the present results of the inductive sciences, and thus to purely 
empirical postulates, any views he may adopt must of necessity share 
in the problematic and provisional character of the empirical sciences 
themselves, and can have no claim to be regarded as definitely de- 
monstrated in respect of their details. I will here only indicate very 
briefly two lines of inquiry to which these reflections appear appli- 
cable. The growth of evolutionary science, with the new light it has 
thrown upon the processes by which useful variations may be estab- 
lished without the need for presupposing conscious preexisting design, 
naturally gives rise to the question whether such unconscious factors 
are of themselves sufficient to account for the actual course of devel- 
opment so far as it can be traced, or whether the actual history of the 
world offers instances of results which, so far as we can see, can only 
have issued from deliberate design. And thus we seem justified in 
regarding the problem of the presence of ends in Nature as an intel- 
ligible and legitimate one for the philosophy of the future. I would 
only suggest that such an inquiry must be prosecuted throughout by 
the same empirical methods, and with the same consciousness of the 
provisional character of any conclusions we may reach w^hich would 
be recognized as in place if we were called on to decide whether some 
peculiar .characteristic of an animal group or some singular social 
practice in a recently discovered tribe does or does not indicate 
definite purpose on the part of breeders or legislators. 

The same remarks, HI my opinion, apply to the familiar problems 
of Natural Theology relative to the existence and activity of such 
non-human intelligences as are commonly understood by the names 
ff God " or " gods." Hume and Kant, as it seems to me, have definitely 
shown between them that the old-fashioned attempts to demonstrate 
from self-evident principles the existence of a supreme personal intel- 
ligence as a condition of the very being of truth all involve unavoid- 
able logical paralogisms. I should myself, indeed, be prepared to go 
further, and to say that the conception of a single personality as the 
ground of truth and reality can be demonstrated to involve contra- 
diction, but this I know is a question upon which some philosophers 
for whom I entertain the profoundest respect hold a contrary opinion. 
The more modest .question, however, whether the actual course of 


human history affords probable ground for believing in the activity 
of one or more non-human personalities as agents in the development 
of our species I cannot but think a perfectly proper subject for 
empirical investigation, if only it be borne in mind that any conclusion 
upon such a point is inevitably affected by the provisional character 
of our information as to empirical facts themselves, and can claim in 
consequence nothing more than a certain grade of probability. With 
this proviso, I cannot but regard the question as to the existence of 
a God or of gods as one upon which we may reasonably hope for 
greater certainty as our knowledge of the empirical facts of the 
world's history increases. And I should be inclined only to object to 
any attempt to foreclose examination by forcing a conclusion either 
in the theistic or in the atheistic sense on alleged grounds of a priori 
metaphysics. In a word, I would maintain not only with Kant that 
the " physico-theological " argument is specially deserving of our 
regard, but with Boole that it is with it that Natural Theology 
must stand or fall. 


Among the numerous difficulties which beset the teaching of the 
elements of formal logic to beginners, one of the earliest is that of 
deciding whether all names shall be considered to have meaning both 
in extension and intension. As we all know, the problem arises in 
connection with two classes of names, (1) proper names of individ- 
uals, (2) abstract terms. I should like to indicate what seems to me 
the true solution of the difficulty, though I do not remember to have 
seen it advocated anywhere in just the form I should prefer. 

(1) As to proper names. It seems clear that those who regard the 
true proper name as a meaningless label are nearer the truth than 
those who assert with Jevons that a proper name has for its intension 
all the predicates which can be truly ascribed to the object named. 
As has often been observed, it is a sufficient proof that, for example, 
John does not mean "a human being of the male sex," to note that he 
who names his daughter, his dog, or his canoe John, makes no false 
assertion, though he may commit a solecism. So far the followers of 
Mill seem to have a satisfactory answer to Jevons, when they say, for 
example, that he confuses the intension of a term with its accidental or 
acquired associations. (So, again, we can see that Socrates cannot 
mean "the wisest of the Greek philosophers," by considering that I 
may perfectly well understand the statement "there goes Socrates" 
without being aware that Socrates is wise or a Greek or a philosopher.) 
And if we objected that no proper name actually in use is ever with- 
out some associations which in part determine its meaning by restrict- 
ing its applicability, it would be a valid rejoinder that in pure logic 
we have to consider not the actual usages of language, but those that 


would prevail in an ideal language purged of all elements of irre- 
levancy. In such an ideal scientific language, it might be said, the 
proper name would be reduced to the level of a mere mark serviceable 
for identification, but conveying no implication whatever as to the 
special nature of the thing identified. Thus it would be indifferent 
what mark we attach to any particular individual, just as in mathe- 
matics it is indifferent what alphabetical symbol we appropriate to 
stand for a given class or number. I think, however, that even in such 
an ideal scientific language the proper name would have a certain 
intension. In the first place, the use of proper name seems to inform 
us that the thing named is not unique, is not the only member of 
a class. To a monotheist, for instance, the name "God" is no true 
proper name, nor can he consistently give a proper name to his 
Deity. It is only where one member of a class has to be distinguished 
from others that the bestowal of a proper name has a meaning. 
And, further, to give a thing a proper name seems to imply that the 
thing is itself not a class. In logic we have, of course, occasion to form 
the concept of classes which have other classes for their individual 
members. But the classes which compose such classes of classes could 
not themselves be identified by means of proper names. Thus the 
employment of a proper name seems to indicate that the thing 
named is not the only member of its class, and further that it is not 
itself a class of individuals. Beyond this it seems to be a mere question 
of linguistic convention what information the use of a proper name 
shall convey. Hence it ought to be said, not that the proper name has 
no intension, but that it represents a limiting case in which intension 
is at a minimum. 

(2) As to abstract terms. Ought we to say, with so many English 
formal logicians, that an abstract term is always singular and non- 
intensional? The case for asserting that such terms are all singular, 
I own, seems unanswerable. For it is clear that if the name of an 
attribute or relation is equally the name of another attribute or rela- 
tion, it is ambiguous and thus not properly one term at all. To say, for 
example, that whiteness means two or more distinct qualities seems 
to amount to saying that it has no one definite meaning. Of course, it 
is true that milk is white, paper is white, and snow is white, and yet 
the color-tones of the three are distinct. But what we assert here is, 
not that there are different whitenesses, but only that there are differ- 
ent degrees of approximation to a single ideal standard or type of 
whiteness. It is just because the whiteness we have in view is one and 
not many that we can intelligibly assert, for example, that newly 
fallen snow is whiter than any paper. All the instances produced by 
Mill to show that abstract terms may be general seem to me either to 
involve confusion between difference of kind and difference in degree 
of approximation to type, or else to depend upon treating as abstract 


a term which is really concrete. Thus when we say red, blue, green, 
are different kinds of color, surely what we mean is different kinds of 
colored surface. Qua colored, they are not different; I mean just as 
much and no more when I say "a red thing is colored," or "has 
color," as when I say " a green thing is colored." If Mill were right, the 
proposition "red is a color" ought to mean exactly the same as "red 
is red." Or, to put it in another way, it would become impossible to 
form in thought any concept of a single class of colored things. 

But need we infer because abstract terms are singular that there- 
fore they have no intension and are mere meaningless marks? Com- 
monly as this inference is made, it seems to me clearly mistaken. It 
seems, in fact, to rest upon the vague and ill-defined principle that 
an attribute can have no attributes of its own. That it is false is 
shown, I think, by the simple reflection that scientific definitions 
are one and all statements as to the meaning of abstract names of 
attributes and relations. For example, the definition of a circle is 
a statement as to the meaning of circularity, the legal definition of 
responsible persons a statement as to the meaning of the abstraction 
"responsibility," and so on. (We only evade the point if we argue 
that abstract terms when used as the subjects of propositions are 
really being employed concretely. For "cruelty is odious," for 
instance, does not merely mean that cruel acts are odious acts, 
but that they are odious because they are cruel.) In fact, the doc- 
trine that abstract terms have no intension would seem, if thought 
out, to lead to the view that there are only classes of individuals, but 
no classes of classes. Thus to say "cruel acts are odious because 
cruel " implies, not only that I can form the concept of a class of cruel 
acts, but also that of classes of odious acts of which the class of cruel 
acts in its turn is a member. And to admit as much as this is to admit 
that the class of cruel acts, considered as a member of the class of odious 
acts, shares the common predicate of odiousness with the other classes 
of acts composing the higher class. Hence the true account of abstract 
terms seems to me to be that we have in them another limiting case, 
a case in which the extension and the intension are coincident. Inci- 
dentally, by illustrating the ambiguity of the principle that attributes 
have no attributes of their own, our discussion seems to indicate the 
advantage of taking the purely extensional view as opposed to the 
predicative view of the import of propositions as the basis of an ele- 
mentary treatment of logical doctrine. 



[Alexander Thomas Ormond, McCosh Professor of Philosophy, Princeton 
University, since 1897. b. 1847, Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Mental 
Science Fellow, Princeton, 1877-78; Post-grad. Bonn and' Berlin, 1884-85; 
Ph.D. Princeton,"! 880; A.B. ibid. 1877; LL.D. Miami, 1899. Professor of 
Philosophy and History, University of Minnesota, 1880-83; Professor of 
Mental Science and Logic, Princeton University, 1883-97. Member Ameri- 
can Philosophical Association, American Psychological Association.] 


THE living problems of any science arise out of two sources : (1) out 
of what men may think of it, in view of its nature and claims, and 
(2) the problems that at any period are vital to it, and in the solution 
of which it realizes the purpose of its existence. Now if we distinguish 
the body of the sciences which deal with aspects of the world's phenom- 
ena and here I would include both the psychic and the physical - 
from metaphj'sics, which professes to go behind the phenomenon and 
determine the world in terms of its inner, and, therefore, ultimate real- 
ity, it may be truly said of the body of the sciences that they are in a 
position to disregard in a great measure questions that arise out of the 
first source, inasmuch as the data from which they make their de- 
parture are obvious to common observation. Our world is all around 
us, and its phenomena either press upon us or are patent to our 
observation. Lying thus within the field of observation, it does 
not occur to the average mind to question either the legitimacy or 
the possibility of that effort of reflection which is devoted to their 
investigation and interpretation. Metaphysics, however, enjoys no 
such immunity as this, but its claims are liable to be met with skep- 
ticism or denial at the outset, and this is due partly to the nature of 
its initial claims, and partly to the fact that its real data are less open 
to observation than are those of the sciences. I say partly to the 
nature of the initial claims of metaphysics, for it is characteristic of. 
metaphysics that it refuses to regard the distinction between phe- 
nomena and ground or inner nature, on which the sciences rest, as 
final, and is committed from the outset to the claim that the real is 
in its inner nature one and to be interpreted in the light of, or in 
terms of, its inner unity; whereas, science has so indoctrinated the 
modern mind with the supposition that only the outer movements 
of things are open to knowledge, while their inner and real nature 
must forever remain inaccessible to our powers; I say that the mod- 


ern mind has been so imbued with this pretension as to have almost 
completely forgotten the fact that the distinction of phenomenon 
and ground is one of science's own making. Neither the plain man 
nor the cultured man, if he happens not to be tinctured with science, 
finds his world a duality. The things he deals with are the realities, 
and it is only when his naive realism begins to break down before 
the complex demands of his growing life, that the thought occurs to 
him that his world may be more complex than he has dreamed. It is 
clear, then, that the distinction of our world into phenomena and 
ground, on which science so largely rests, is a first product of reflec- 
tion, and not a fact of observation at all. 

If this be the case, it may be possible and even necessary for 
reflection at some stage to transcend this distinction. At least, there 
can be no reason except an arbitrary one for taking this first step of 
reflection to be a finality. And there would be the same justification 
for a second step that would transcend this dualism, as for the initial 
step out of which the distinction arose; provided, it should be found 
that the initial distinction does not supply an adequate basis for a 
rational interpretation of the world that can be taken as final. Now, 
it is precisely because the dualistic distinction of the sciences does fail 
in this regard, that a further demand for a reflective transformation 
of the data arises. Let us bear in mind that the data of the sciences 
are not the simple facts of observation, but rather those facts trans- 
formed by an act of reflection by virtue of which they become phe- 
nomena distinguished from a more fundamental nature on which 
they depend and which itself is not open to observation. The real 
data of science are found only when the world of observation has been 
thus transformed by an act of reflection. If then at some stage in our 
effort to interpret our world it should become clear that the sciences 
of phenomena, whatever value their results may possess, are not giv- 
ing us an interpretation in terms that can be taken as final, and that in 
order to ground such an interpretation a further transformation of our 
data becomes necessary, I do not see why any of the sciences should 
feel that they have cause to demur. In truth, it is out of just such a 
situation as this that the metaphysical interpretation arises (as I 
propose very briefly here to show) , a situation that supplies a genuine 
demand in the light of which the effort of metaphysics to understand 
its world seems to possess as high a claim to legitimacy as that of the 
sciences of phenomena. Let us take our stand with the plain man or 
the child, within the world of unmodified observation. The things 
of observation, in this world, are the realities, and at first we may 
suppose have undergone little reflective transformation. The first re- 
flective effort to change this world in any way will, no doubt, be an 
effort to number or count the things that present themselves to observa- 
tion, and out of this effort will arise the transformation of the world 


that results from considering it under the concepts and categories 
of number. In short, to mathematical reflection of this simple sort, 
the things of observation will resolve themselves into a plurality of 
countable things, which the numbering reflection becoming explicit 
in its ordinal and cardinal moments will translate into a system that 
will be regarded as a whole made up of the sum of its parts. The very 
first step, then, in the reflective transformation of things resolves 
them into a dual system, the world conceived as a cardinal whole that 
is made up of its ordinal parts, and exactly equal to them. This 
mathematical conception is moreover purely quantitative; involving 
the exact and stable equivalence of its parts or units and that of the 
sum of the parts with the whole. Now it is with this purely quantita- 
tive transformation that mathematics and the mathematical sciences 
begin. We may ask, then, why should there be any other than mathe- 
matical science, 1 and what ground can non-mathematical science point 
to as substantiating its claims? I confess I can see no other final 
reason than this, that mathematical science does not meet the whole 
demand we feel obliged to make on our world. If mathematics were 
asked to vindicate itself, it no doubt would do so by claiming that 
things present quantitative aspects on which it founds its procedure. 
In like manner non-mathematical, or, as we may call it, physical or 
natural science, will seek to substantiate its claims by pointing to 
certain ultra-quantitative or qualitative aspects of things. It is true 
that, so far as things are merely numerable, they are purely quantita- 
tive; but mathematics abstracts from the content and character of its 
units and aggregates, which may and do change, so that a relation 
of stable equivalence is not maintained among them. In fact, the 
basis of these sciences is found in the tendency of things to be always 
changing and becoming different from what they were before. The 
problem of these sciences is how to ground a rational scheme of know- 
ledge in connection with a fickle world like that of qualitative change. 
It is here that reflection finds its problem, and noticing that the tend- 
ency of this world of change is for a to pass into b and thus to lose 
its own identity, the act of reflection that rationalizes the situation is 
one that connects a and 6 by relating them to a common ground x of 
which they stand as successive manifestations or symbols. X thus 
supplies the thread of identity that binds the two changes a and b into 
a relation to which the name causation may be applied. And just as 
quantitative equivalence is the principle of relationship among the 
parts of the simple mathematical world, so here in the world of the 
dynamic or natural sciences, the principle of relation is natural 
causation. 2 We find, then, that the non-mathematical sciences rest on 

1 I do not raise the question of qualitative mathematics at all. It is clear that 
the first mathematical reflection will be quantitative. 

2 By natural causation I mean such a relationship between o and b in a phenom- 
enal system as enables a through its connection with its ground to determine b. 


a basis that is constituted by a second act of reflection ; one that 
translates our world into a system of phenomena causally inter-related 
and connected with their underlying grounds. 

We have now reached a point where it will be possible in a few 
sentences to indicate the rise of the metaphysical reflection and the 
ground on which it rests. If we consider both the mathematical and 
the physical ways of looking at things, we will find that they possess 
this feature in common, they are purely external, having nothing 
to say respecting the inner and, therefore, real nature of the things 
with which they deal. Or, if we concede the latest claims of some of 
the physical speculators and agree that the aim of physics is an 
ultimate physical explanation of reality, it will still be true that the 
whole standpoint of this explanation will be external. Let me explain 
briefly what I mean substantially by the term external as I use it here. 
Every interpretation of a world is a function of some knowing con- 
sciousness, and consequently of some knowing self. This is too obvious 
to need proof. A system will be external to such a knower just to the 
extent that the knower finds it dominated and determined by cate- 
gories that are different from those of its own determination. A world 
physically interpreted is one that is brought completely under the 
rubrics of physics and mathematics; whose movements yield them- 
selves completely, therefore, to a mechanical calculus that gives rise 
to purely descriptive formulae; or to the control of a dynamic prin- 
ciple; that of natural causation, by virtue of which everything is 
determined without thought of its own, by the impulse of another, 
which impulse itself is not directly traceable to any thought or pur- 
pose. Now, the occasion for the metaphysical reflection arises when 
this situation that brings us face to face with, nay, makes us part 
and parcel of, an alien system of things, becomes intolerable, and the 
knower begins to demand a closer kinship with his world. The knower 
finds the categories of his own central and characteristic activity in 
experience. Here he is conscious of being an agent going out in forms 
of activity for the realization of his world. The determining categories 
of the activity he is most fully conscious of, are interest, idea, previ- 
sion, purpose, and that selective activity which goes to its termina- 
tion in some achieved end. The metaphysical interpretation arises out 
of the demand that the world shall be brought into bonds of kinship 
with the knower. And this is effected by generalizing the categories 
of consciousness and applying them as principles of interpretation to 
the world. The act of reflection on which the metaphysical interpre- 
tation proceeds is one, then, in which the world of science is further 
transformed by bringing the inner nature of things out of its isolation 
and translating the world-movements into process the terms of which 
are no longer phenomena and hidden ground, but rather inception and 
realization, or, more specifically, Idea and Reality. And the point to 


be noted here is the fact that these metaphysical categories are led 
up to positivity by an act of reflection that has for its guiding aim an 
interpretation of the world that will be more ultimately satisfactory 
to the knower than that of the physical or natural sciences; while 
negatively, it is led up to by the refusal of the knowing consciousness 
to rest in a world alien to its own nature and in which it is subordin- 
ated to the physical and made a mere epiphenomenon. 




It is clear from what has been said that the metaphysical inter- 
pretation proceeds on a presupposition radically different from that 
of mathematical and physical science. The presumption of these 
sciences is that the world is physical, that the physical categories 
supply the norms of reality, and that consciousness and the psychic, 
in general, are subordinate and phenomenal to the physical. On the 
contrary, metaphysics arises out of a revolt from these presumptions 
toward the opposite presumption, namely, that consciousness itself 
is the great reality, and that the norms of an ultimate interpretation of 
things are to be sought in its categories. This is the great transfor- 
mation that conditions the possibility and value of all metaphysics. 
It is the Copernican revolution which the mind must pass through, 
a revolution in which matter and the physical world yields the 
primacy to mind; a revolution in which consciousness becomes cen- 
tral, its categories and analogies supplying the principles of final 
world-interpretation. Let us consider then, in the light of this great 
Copernican revolution, the questions of the point of view, principle, 
and method of metaphysics. And here the utmost brevity must be 
observed. If consciousness be the great reality, then its own central 
activity, that effort by which it realizes its world, will determine for 
us the point of view or departure of which we are in quest. This will 
be inner rather than outer ; it will be motived by interest, will shape 
itself into interest-directed effort. This effort will be cognitive; dom- 
inated by an idea which will be an anticipation of the goal of the 
effort. It will, therefore, become directive, selective, and wil; stand 
as the end or aim of the completed effort. The whole movement will 
thus take the form, genetically, of a developing purpose informed by 
an idea, or teleologically , of a purpose going on to its fulfillment in some 
aim which is also its motive. Now, metaphysics determines its point 
of view in the following reasoning: if in consciousness we find the 
type of the inner nature of things, then the point of view for the inter- 
pretation of this inner nature will be to seek by generalizing the 
standpoint of consciously determined effort and asserting that this 


is the true point of view from which the meaning of the world is to be 

Having determined the metaphysical point of view, the next ques- 
tion of vital importance is that of its principle. And we may cut mat- 
ters short here by saying at once that the principle we are seeking is 
that of sufficient reason, and we may say that a reason will be suffi- 
cient when it adequately expresses the world-view or concept under 
which an investigation is being prosecuted. Let us suppose that this 
world-view is that of simple mathematics, the principle of sufficient 
reason here will be that of quantitative equivalence of parts; or, from 
the standpoint of the whole, that of infinite divisibility. Whereas, if we 
take the world of the ultra-mathematical science, which is determined 
by the notion of phenomena depending on underlying ground, we will 
find that the sufficient reason in this sphere takes the form of adequate 
cause or condition. The determining condition or causes of any phys- 
ical phenomenon supply, from that point of view, the ratio sufficiens 
of its existence. We have seen that the sufficiency of a reason in the 
above cases has been determined in view of that notion which defines 
the kind of world the investigation is dealing with. Let us apply this 
insight to the problem of the principle of metaphysics, and we will 
soon conclude that no reason can be metaphysically sufficient that 
does not satisfy the requirements of a world conceived under the 
notion of inception and realization ; or, more specifically, idea and 
reality. In short, the reason of metaphysics will refuse to regard its 
world as a mechanism that is devoid of thought and intention; that 
lacks, in short, the motives of internal determination and movement, 
and will in all cases insist that an explanation or interpretation can 
be metaphysically adequate only when its ultimate reference is to an 
idea that is in the process of purposive fulfillment. Such an explana- 
tion we call teleological or rational, rather than merely mechanical, 
and such a principle is alone adequate to embody the ratio sufficiens 
of metaphysics. 

Having determined the point of view and principle of meta- 
physics, the question of metaphysical method will be divested of some 
of its greatest difficulties. It will be clear to any one who reflects that 
the very first problem in regard to the method of metaphysics will 
be that of its starting-point and the kind of results it is to look for. 
And little can be accomplished here until it has been settled that con- 
sciousness is to have the primacy, and that its prerogative is to supply 
both standpoint and principle of the investigation. We have gone 
a long way toward mastering our method when we have settled these 
points: (1) that the metaphysical world is a world of consciousness; 

(2) that the conscious form of effort rather than the mechanical is 
the species of activity or movement with which we have to deal; and, 

(3) that the world it is seeking to interpret is ultimately one of idea 


and reality in which the processes take the purposive form. In view of 
this, the important steps of method (and we use the term method here 
in the most fundamental sense) will be (1) the question of the form of 
metaphysical activity or agency as contrasted with that of the phys- 
ical sciences. This may be brought out in the contrast of the two 
terms finality and mere efficiency, in which by mere efficiency is 
meant an agency that is presumed to be thoughtless and purposeless, 
and consequently without foresight. All this is embodied in the term 
force or physical energy, and less explicitly in that of natural causa- 
tion. Contrasted with this, finality is a term that involves the for- 
ward impulse of idea, prevision, and purpose. Anything that is cap- 
able of any sort of foretaste has in it a principle of prevision, selection, 
choice, and purpose. The impulse that motives and runs it, that also 
stands out as the end of its fulfillment, is a foretaste, an Ahnung, an 
anticipation, and the whole process or movement, as well as every 
part of it, will take on this character. (2) The second question of 
method will be that of the nature of this category of which finality 
is the form. What is its content, pure idea or pure will, or a synthesis 
that includes both? We have here the three alternatives of pure 
rationalism, voluntarism, and a doctrine hard to characterize in a 
single word; that rests on a synthesis of the norms of both rational- 
ism and voluntarism. Without debating these alternatives, I propose 
here briefly to characterize the synthetic concept as supplying what 
I conceive to be the most satisfactory doctrine. The principle of pure 
rationalism is one of insight but is lacking in practical energy, 
whereas, that of voluntarism supplies practical energy, but is lacking 
in insight. Pure voluntarism is blind, while pure rationalism is power- 
less. But the synthesis of idea and will, provided we go a step further 
(as I think we must) and presuppose also a germ of feeling as interest, 
supplies both insight and energy. So that the spring out of which our 
world is to arise may be described as either the idea informed with 
purposive energy, or purpose or will informed and guided by the idea. It 
makes no difference which form of conception we use. In either case 
if we include feeling as interest we are able to conceive movements 
originating in some species of apprehension, taking the dynamic 
form of purpose, and motived and selected, so to speak, by interest; 
and in describing such activity we are simply describing these normal 
movements of consciousness with which our experience makes us 
most familiar. (3) The third question of method involves the relation 
or correlation of the metaphysical interpretation with that of the 
natural or physical science. Two points are fundamental here. In the 
first place, it must be borne in mind that it is the same world with 
which the plain man, the man of science, and the metaphysician are 
concerned. We cannot partition off the external world to the plain 
man, the atoms and ethers to the man of science, leaving the meta- 


physician in exclusive and solitary possession of the world of con- 
sciousness. It is the same world for all. The metaphysician cannot 
shift the physical world, with its oceans and icebergs, its vast plane- 
tary systems and milky ways, on to the shoulders of the physicist. 
This is the metaphysician's own recalcitrant world, which will doubt- 
less task all his resources to explain. In the second place, though it 
is the same world that is clamoring for interpretation, it is a world 
that passes through successive transformations, in order to adapt itself 
to progressive modes of interpretation. The plain man is called to pass 
through a species of Copernican revolution that subordinates the phe- 
nomenon to its ground, before he can become a man of science. In 
turn, the man of science must go through the Copernican process, and 
learn to subordinate his atoms and ethers to consciousness before he 
can become a metaphysician. And it is this transformation that marks 
one of the most fundamental steps in the method of metaphysics. 
The world must experience this transformation, and it must become 
habitual to the thinker to subordinate the physical to the mental 
before the metaphysical point of view can be other than foreign to 
him. If, then, it be the same content with which the sciences and 
metaphysics are called on to deal, it is clear that we have on our 
hands another problem on the answer to which the fate of meta- 
physics vitally depends; the question of the correlation of its method 
with that of the sciences so that it may stand vindicated as the final 
interpretation of things. 



We have reached two conclusions that are vital here: (1) that the 
metaphysical way of looking at the world involves a transformation 
of the world of physical science; (2) that it is the same world that lies 
open to both science and metaphysics. Out of this arises the pro- 
blem of the correlation of the two views; the two interpretations of 
the world. If science be right in conceiving the world under such 
categories as quantity and natural causation; if science be right 
in seeking a mechanical explanation of phenomena (that is, one that 
excludes prevision, purpose, and aim); and if metaphysics be right 
in refusing to accept this explanation as final and in insisting that 
the principle of ultimate interpretation is teleological, that it falls 
under the categories of prevision, purpose, and aim; then it is clear 
that the problem of correlation is on our hands. In dealing with this 
problem, it will be convenient to separate it into two questions: (1) 
that of the fact; (2) that of its rationale. The fact of the correlation 
is a thing of common experience. We have but to consider the way 
in which this Congress of Science has been brought about in order to 


have an exhibition of the method of correlation. Originating first in 
the sphere of thought and purpose, the design has been actualized 
through the operation of mechanical agencies which it has some- 
how contributed to liberate. On the scale of individual experience 
we have the classic instance of the arm moving through space in 
obedience to a hidden will. There can be no question as to the fact 
and the great difficulty of metaphysics does not arise in the task of 
generalizing the fact and conceiving the world as a system of thought- 
purposes working out into forms of the actual through mechanical 
agencies. This generalization somehow lies at the foundation of all 
metaphysical faith, and, this being the case, the real task here, aside 
from the profounder question of the rationale, is that of exhibiting 
the actual points of correlation; those points in the various stages 
of the sciences from physics to ethics and religion, at which the 
last category or result of science is found to hold as its immediate 
implication some first term of the more ultimate construction of 
metaphysics. The working out of this task is of the utmost import- 
ance, inasmuch as it makes clear to both the man of science and the 
metaphysician the intrinsic necessity of the correlation. It is a task 
analogous to the Kantian deduction of the categories. 



We come, then, to the question of the rationale of this correlation, 
and it is clear here that we are dealing with a phase of the problem 
of the ultimate nature of reality. For the question of the correlation 
now is how it is possible that our thoughts should affect things so 
that they move in response; how mind influences body or the re- 
verse, how, when we will, the arm moves through space. And with- 
out going into details of discussion here, let us say at once, that 
whatever the situation may be for any science, - -and it maybe that 
some form of dualism is a necessary presupposition of science, - 
for metaphysics it is clear that no dualism of substances or orders 
can be regarded as final. The life of metaphysics depends on finding 
the one for the many; the one that when found will also ground the 
many. If, then, the phenomenon of mind and body presents the 
appearance of a correspondence of two different and, so far as can 
be determined, mutually exclusive agencies, the problem of meta- 
physics is the reduction of these agencies to one species. Here we 
come upon the issue between materialism and immaterialism. But 
inasmuch as the notion of metaphysics itself seems to exclude ma- 
terialism, the vital alternative is that of immaterialism. Again, if 
psycho-physics presents as its basal category a parallelism between 
two orders of phenomena, psychic and physical, it is the business of 


metaphysics to seek the explanation of this dualism in some more 
ultimate and unitary conception. Now, since the very notion of 
metaphysics again excludes the physical alternative from the cate- 
gory of finality, we are left with the psychic term as the one that, 
by virtue of the fact that it embodies a form of conscious activ- 
ity, promises to be most fruitful for metaphysics. From one point 
of view, then, we have reduced our world to immaterialism; from 
another, to some form or analogue of the psychic. Now it is not 
necessary here to carry the inquiry further in this direction. For 
what metaphysics is interested in, specially, is the fact that the 
w r orld must be reduced to one kind of being and one type of agency. 
If this be done, it is clear that the dualism of body and mind and 
the parallel orders of psycho-physics cannot be regarded as final, but 
must take their places as phenomena that are relative and reducible 
to a more fundamental unity. The metaphysician will say that the 
arm moves through space in response to the will, and that every- 
where the correlation between mechanical and teleological agency 
takes place because in the last analysis there is only one type of agency; 
an agency that finds its initiative in interest, thought, purpose, 
design, and thus works out its results in the fields of space and 
mechanical activities. 

Furthermore, on the question to which these considerations lead 
up; that of the ultimate interpretation we are to put on the reality 
of the w r orld, the issue is not so indeterminate as it might seem from 
some points of view. Taking it that the very notion of metaphysics 
excludes the material and the physical as ultimate types of the real, 
we are left with the notions of the immaterial and the psychic; and 
while the former is indefinite, it is a fact that in the psychic and 
especially in the form of it which man realizes in his own experience, 
he finds an intelligible type and the only one that is available to him 
for the definition of the immaterial. He has his choice, then, either 
to regard the \vorld as absolutely opaque, showing nothing but its 
phenomenal dress which ceases to have any meaning; or to apply 
to the world's inner nature the intelligible types and analogies of 
his own form of being. That this is the alternative that is embodied 
in the existence of metaphysics is clearly demonstrated by the fact 
that the metaphysical interpretation embodies itself in the cate- 
gories of reason, design, purpose, and aim. Whatever difficulties we 
may encounter, then, in the use and application of the psychic analogy 
in determining the nature of the real, it is clear that its employment 
is inevitable and indispensable. Let us, then, employ the term ra- 
tional to that characterization of the nature of things which to meta- 
physics is thus inevitable and indispensable. The world must in the 
last analysis be rational in its constitution, and its agencies and forms 
of being must be construed as rational in their type. 


And here we come upon the last question in this field, that of the 
ultimate being of the world. We have already concluded that the 
real is in the last analysis rational. But we have not answered the 
question whether there shall be one rational or many. Now it has 
become clear that Avith metaphysics unity is a cardinal interest; 
that, therefore, the world must be one in thought, purpose, aim. 
And it is on this insight that the metaphysical doctrine of the ab- 
solute rests. There must be one being whose thought and purpose are 
all-inclusive, in order that the world may be one and that it may 
have meaning as a whole. But the world presents itself as a plurality 
of finite existents which our metaphysics requires us to reduce in the 
last analysis to the psychic type. What of this plurality of psychic 
existents? It is on this basis that metaphysics constructs its doctrine 
of individuality. Allowing for latitude of opinion here, the trend 
of metaphysical reflection sets strongly toward a doctrine of reality 
that grounds the world in an Absolute whose all-comprehending 
thought and purpose utters or realizes itself in the plurality of finite 
individuals that constitutes the world; the degree of reality that 
shall be ascribed to the plurality of individuals being a point in 
debate, giving rise to the contemporary form of the issue between 
idealism and realism. Allowing for minor differences, however, 
there is among metaphysicians a fair degree of assent to the doctrine 
that in order to be completely rational the world of individual plural- 
ity must be regarded as implying an Absolute, which, whether it is 
to be conceived as an individual or not, is the author and bearer of 
the thought and design of the world as a whole. 



We have only time to speak very briefly, in conclusion, of two 
vital problems in metaphysics: (1) that of the nature and limits of 
metaphysical knowledge ; (2) that of the ultimate criteria of truth. In 
regard to the question of knowledge, we may either identify thought 
with reality, or we may regard thought as wholly inadequate to repre- 
sent the real; in one case we will be gnostic, in the other agnostic. 
Now whatever may be urged in favor of the gnostic alternative, it 
remains true that our thought, in order to follow along intelligible 
lines, must be guided by the categories and analogies of our own 
experience. This fixes a limit, so that the thought of man is never in 
a position to grasp the real completely. Again, whatever may be 
urged in behalf of the agnostic alternative, it is to be borne in mind 
that our experience does supply us with intelligible types and cate- 
gories ; and that under the impulse of the infinite and absolute, or 


the transcendent, to which our thought responds (to put it no 
stronger), a dialectical activity arises; on the one hand, the appli- 
cation of the experience-analogies to determine the real; on the 
other, the incessant removal of limits by the impulse of transcend- 
ence (as we may call it). Thus arises a movement of approxima- 
tion which while it never completely compasses its goal, yet proceeds 
along intelligent lines; constitutes the mind's effort to know; and 
results in an approximating series of intelligible and relatively ade- 
quate conceptions. Metaphysically, we are ever approximating to 
ultimate knowledge; though it can never be said that we have at- 
tained it. The type of metaphysical knowledge cannot be character- 
ized, therefore, as either gnostic or agnostic. 

As to the question of ultimate criteria, it is clear that we are here 
touching one of the living issues of our present-day thought. Shall 
the judgment of truth, on which certitude must found, exclude 
practical considerations of value, or shall the consideration of value 
have weight in the balance of certitude ? On this issue we have at 
the opposite extremes (1) the pure rationalist who insists on the 
rigid exclusion from the epistemological scale of every consideration 
except that of pure logic. The truth of a thing, he urges, is always 
a purely logical consideration. On the other hand, we have (2) the 
pure pragmatist, who insists on the "will to believe" as a legitimate 
datum or factor in the determination of certitude. The pragmatic 
platform has two planks: (1) the ontological we select our world 
that we call real at the behest of our interests; (2) the ethical in 
such a world practical interest has the right of way in determining 
what we are to accept as true as well as what we are to choose as 
good. It is my purpose in thus outlining the extremes of doctrine 
to close with a suggestion or two toward less ultra-conclusions. It 
is a sufficient criticism on the pure rationalist's position to point out 
the fact that his separation of practical and theoretic interests is a 
pure fiction that is never realized anywhere. The motives of science 
and the motives of practice are so blended that interest in the con- 
clusion always enters as a factor in the process. A conclusion reached 
by the pure rationalist's method would be one that would only 
interest the pure rationalist in so far as he could divest himself of all 
motives except the bare love of fact for its own sake. The pure 
pragmatist is, I think, still more vulnerable. He must, to start with, 
be a pure subjective idealist, otherwise he would find his world at 
many points recalcitrant to his ontology. Furthermore, the mere 
will to believe is arbitrary and involves the suppression of reason. In 
order that the will to believe may work real conviction, the point 
believed must at least amount to a postulate of the practical reason ; 
it must become somehow evident that the refusal to believe would 
create a situation that would be theoretically unsound or irrational; 


as, for instance, if we assume that the immortality of the soul is a 
real postulate of practical reason, it must be so because the negative 
of it would involve the irrationality of our world; and therefore a 
degree of theoretic imperfection or confusion. Personally I believe 
the lines here converge in such a way that the ideal of truth will 
always be found to have practical value; and conversely, as to prac- 
tical ideals, that a sound practical postulate will have weight in the 
theoretic scales. And it is doubtless true, as Professor Royce urges 
in his presidential address on The Eternal and The Practical, that 
all judgments must find their final warrant at the Court of. the 
Eternal where, so far as we can see, the theoretical and practical 
coalesce into one. 

At the close of the work of this Section and upon the invitation of 
Dr. Armstrong, a number of distinguished members in attendance 
joined freely in the discussion, to the great pleasure of the many 
specialists who were present. Among those participating were 
Professor Boltzmann of Vienna, Professor Hoeffding of Copenhagen, 
Professor Calkins of Wellesley, and Professor French of the Uni- 
versity of Nebraska, to whom replies were made by the principal 
speakers, Messrs. Taylor and Ormond. 


A short paper was contributed to the work of the Section by Professor W. P. 
Montague of Columbia University, on the " Physical Reality of Secondary Quali- 
ties." The speaker said that from the beginning of modern philosophy there has 
existed a strong tendency among all schools of thought monists of the idealistic 
or materialistic types, as well as outspoken dualists to treat the distinction 
between primary and secondary qualities as coincident, so far as it goes, with 
the distinction between physical and psychical. Colors, sounds, odors, etc., are 
regarded as purely subjective or mental in their nature, and as having no true 
membership in the physical order; while correlatively all special forms and 
relations have been in their turn extruded from the field of the psychical. Let it 
be noted that introspection offers little or nothing in support of this view. There 
is nothing, for example, about the color red that would make it appear more dis- 
tinctively psychical or subjective than a figure or a motion. The perception of 
a square or a triangle is not a square or triangular perception; but neither is the 
perception of red or blue a red or blue perception. Now with the affective or 
emotional contents of experience the case is quite different. 

A feeling of pain is a painful feeling, a consciousness of anger is an angry con- 
sciousness. Pains are more and less painful, according as we are more and less 
aware of them. With feelings and volitions esse is indeed percipi. Colors and 
other secondary qualities, however, do not seem thus to increase or diminish 
in their reality concomitantly with our perceptions of them. Red is red, neither 
more nor less, regardless of the amount to which we attend to it. And yet it 
remains true that, notwithstanding this seeming objectivity, the secondary qual- 
ities have long been contrasted with the primary, and classed along with the 
affective and volitional states as purely subjective facts. It has always seemed 
curious that a view so important as this in its consequences, and so radically at 
variance, not only with Pre-Cartesian philosophy, but also with our instinctive 
beliefs, should have won its way to the position of an accepted dogma; and the 
purpose of this paper was first to examine the grounds upon which this belief 
rests, and second to show that the problem of the independent reality of the 
physical world and the problem of the relation of physical and psychical appear 
in a clearer and more hopeful light when disentangled from the quite different 
problem of the relation of primary and secondary qualities. 

There were two reasons why the older or Pre-Cartesian view of this question 
should give place to the modern doctrine. First, because of the rediscovery of 
the idea of mechanism, without which predictive science had been virtually im- 
possible. The second reason for reducing the secondary qualities to a merely 
subjective status lay in the fact that they are much more dependent than the 
primary qualities upon the bodily organism of the one who perceives them. 
In closing Professor Montague said: - 

"I wish in closing to point out two consequences of the view which I have 
been opposing. First, the present paradoxical status of the eternal world; second, 
the equally paradoxical status of the relation of that world to the world of mind. 
Berkeley was the first thinker clearly to perceive the unsubstantial nature of a 
world made up solely of primary qualities. Indeed, in the last analysis, a world 
of primary qualities, and nothing else, is a world of relations without terms, a 
geometrical fiction, the objective (or, for that matter, the subjective) existence 


of which the idealist would be right in denying. In Biology we have abandoned 
obscurantist methods, and no longer attribute the distinctive vital functions of 
growth and reproduction to a vital force or vital substance, but solely to the 
peculiar configuration of the material elements of a cell. Why may we not in 
psychology with equal propriety attribute the distinctively psychical functions 
of subjectivity or consciousness, not to the action of a hyper-psychical soul-sub- 
stance, nor to the presence of a transcendental ego, but simply to that peculiar 
configuration of sensorv elements which constitutes a what we call psychosis? ' 



(Hall 1, September 21, 3 p. m.) 

CHAIRMAN: PROFESSOR THOMAS C. HALL, Union Theological Seminary, N. Y. 

PROFESSOR ERNST TROELTSCH, University of Heidelberg. 
SECRETARY: DR. W. P. MONTAGUE, Columbia University. 




[D. Otto Pfleiderer, Professor of Theology, University of Berlin since 1875. 
b. September 1, 1839, Stetten. Wurtemberg. Grad. Tubingen, 1857-61. 
Post-grad, ibid. 1864-68. City Professor, Heilbronn, 1868-69; Superin- 
tendent, Jena, 1869-70; Professor of Theology, Jena, 1870-75. Author of 
Religion and its Essential Characteristics; Religious Philosophy upon His- 
torical Foundation; and many other works and papers on Theology.] 

IN order to answer this question, we need to consider a prelimi- 
nary question, namely, whether religion can be regarded as the 
object of scientific knowledge in the same manner as other processes 
of the intellectual life of the race, such as law, history, and art. It 
is well known that this question has not always received an affirm- 
ative answer, and indeed it can never be answered in the affirmative 
so long as the position is maintained that the only religion is that of 
the Christian Church, whose doctrines and teachings rest upon an 
immediate divine revelation, and that these must be accepted by 
men in blind belief. Under the position of an authoritative ecclesias- 
tical faith there can indeed exist a theoretical consideration of the 
doctrines of faith, as it was the case with the scholastic theology 
of the Middle Ages, which with great earnestness sought to harmon- 
ize faith and knowledge; nevertheless, no one of the present day 
would give to the scholastic theology the name of science with the 
modern meaning of the term science. The scholastic theology used 
great formal acuteness and skill in the work of defining and defend- 
ing ecclesiastical traditions, still there was lacking that which for 
us is the essential condition of scientific knowledge, the free examin- 
ation of tradition according to the laws of human thought and the 


analogy of the general experience of humanity. The great hindrance 
to the progress of the knowledge of religion was the accepted posi- 
tion that the truth of the ecclesiastical doctrines was beyond human 
reason and outside of human examination, since their truth rested 
upon an immediate divine revelation. Whether this supernatural 
authority was ascribed to the Church or the Bible makes very little 
difference, for in either case the assumption of such an authority 
is a hindrance to the free examination of that which claims to be the 
divine revealed truth. 

But is this assumption really justifiable in the nature of the case? 
Do the doctrines of the Church rest upon a supernatural divine 
revelation? So soon as this question was really earnestly considered, 
and the thinking mind could not always avoid the consideration, 
then there was revealed the 'inadequacy of the assumption. Two 
ways of examination led to a common critical result, the philosophical 
analysis of the religious consciousness and the historical comparison 
of various religions. The first to enter upon these ways and at the 
same time to become the founder of the modern science of religion 
was the keen Scotch thinker David Hume. Truly the thought of 
Hume was still a one-sided, disorganizing skepticism; even as his 
theory of knowledge disturbed the truth of all our previous common- 
sense opinions and conceptions, so also his philosophy of religion 
sought to demonstrate that all religion cannot be proved and is full 
of doubt, and that the origin of religion was neither to be found in 
divine revelation nor in the reason of man, but in the passions of 
the heart and in the illusions of imagination. As unsatisfactory as 
this result was, nevertheless it gave an important advance to the 
rational study of religion in two directions, in that of religion being 
an experience of the inner life of the soul and in that of religion 
being a fact of human history. 

Kant added the positive criticism of reason to the negative skep- 
ticism of Hume; that is, Kant showed that the human intellect 
moved independently in the formation of theoretical and practical 
judgments, and that the various materials of thought, desire, and 
feelings were regulated by the intellect according to innate original 
ideas of the true and good and beautiful. Thus as a natural result 
there came the conception that the doctrines of belief arose not as 
complete truths, given by divine revelation, but, like every other 
form of conscious knowledge, these came to us through the activity 
of our own mind, and that therefore these doctrines cannot be re- 
garded as of absolute authority for all time, but that we are to seek 
to understand their origin in historical and psychical motives. So 
far as one looked at the ceremonial forms of positive religion, these 
motives indeed were found according to Kant in irrational concep- 
tions, but as far as the essence of religion was concerned they were 


rather found to be rooted in the moral nature of man. This is the 
consciousness of obligation of the practical reason or of the con- 
science, which raises man to a faith in the moral government of the 
world, in immortality and God. With the reduction of religion 
from all external forms, doctrines, and ceremonies and the finding 
of the real essence of religion in the human mind and spirit, the way 
was opened to a knowledge of religion free from all external authority. 
Those philosophers who came after Kant followed essentially this 
course, though here and there they may separate in their opinions 
according to their thought of the psychological function of religion. 
When Kant had emphasized the close connection between religion 
and the moral obligation, then came Schleiermacher, who empha- 
sized the feeling of our dependence upon the Eternal, and who sought 
to find the explanation of all religious thoughts and conceptions 
in the many relations of the feeling to religious experience. Hegel 
on the other hand sought the truth of religion in the thought of the 
absolute spirit as found in the finite spirit. Thus Hegel made reli- 
gion a sort of popular philosophy. 

At present all agree that all sides of the soul-life have part in 
religion; now one side may be the more prominent, now another, 
according to the peculiarity of certain religions or the individual 
temperaments. The philosophy of religion has, in common with 
scientific psychology, the question of the relation of feeling to the 
intellect and the will, and as yet there may be many views of this 
question. Altogether the philosophy of religion is looking for im- 
portant solutions to many of its problems from the realm of the 
present scientific .psychology. Experiences, such as religious con- 
versions, appear under this point of view as ethical changes in which 
the aim of a personal life is changed from a carnal and selfish end to 
that of a spiritual and altruistic purpose. These are extraordinary 
and seemingly supernatural processes; nevertheless in them there 
can still be found a certain development of the soul-life according 
to law. Modern psychology especially has thrown light upon the 
abnormal conditions of consciousness which have so often been made 
manifest in the religious experience of all times. That which religious 
history records concerning inspiration, visions, ecstasy, and revelation, 
we now classify with the well-known appearances of hypnotism, 
the induction of conceptions and motives of the will through foreign 
suggestion or through self-suggestion, of the division of conscious- 
ness in different egos, and in the union of several consciousnesses 
into one common mediumistic fusion of thought and will. The explan- 
ation of these experiences may not yet be satisfactory, but never- 
theless we do not doubt the possibility of a future explanation from 
the general laws controlling the life of the soul. The fact that we can 
through psychological experiments produce such abnormal conditions 


of consciousness justifies us in taking the position, that certain 
psychical laws are at the foundation of these conditions which in 
their kind are as natural and regular in their functions as the physical 
laws which we observe in physical experiments. These solutions 
which modern psychology so far has given, and hopes still further 
to give, are of great importance to the philosophy of religion. They 
are an indorsement of the general principle which one hundred years 
ago had been advanced by critical speculation, namely, that in all 
experiences of the religious life the same principles which control 
the human mind in all other intellectual and emotional fields shall 
hold sway. Nothing therefore should hinder us in scientific research 
from following the well-defined maxims of thought, and unreservedly 
applying the same methods of scientific analysis in theology as is 
done generally in the other sciences. 

The claim of the Church to infallibility and divine inspiration of 
its dogmas is weakened under this view of the work of the philosophy 
of religion. Prophetical inspiration and ecstasy, which usually were 
thought to be supernatural revelations, are now declared by the 
present psychology to come under the category of other analogous 
experiences, such as the action of mental powers which, under definite 
conditions of individual gifts and on historical occasions, have 
manifested themselves in extraordinary forms of consciousness. 
However, these enthusiastic forms of prophetical consciousness 
cannot be accepted for a higher form of knowledge or even as of 
divine origin and as an infallible proclamation of the truth; on the 
contrary, these forms are to be judged as pathological appearances, 
which may be more harmful than beneficent for the ethical value 
of the prophetical intuition. At least, it has come to pass that all 
forms of revelation must come under the examination of a psycho- 
logical analysis and of an analogical judgment. Hence their tradi- 
tional nimbus of unique, supernatural, and absolute authority is for 
all time destroyed. 

We are carried to the same result by the comparative study of the 
history of religions. The study shows us that the Christian Church, 
with its dogma of the divine inspiration of the Bible, does not stand 
alone; that before and after Christianity other religions made 
exactly the same claims for their sacred scriptures. By the pious 
Brahman the Veda is regarded as infallible and eternal; he believes 
the hymns of the old seers were not composed by the seers them- 
selves, but were taken from an original copy in heaven. The Buddhist 
sees in the sayings of his sacred book " Dhammapadam " the exact 
inheritance of the infallible words of his omniscient teacher Buddha. 
For the confessor of Ahuramazda the Zendavesta contains the 
scriptural revelation of the good spirit unto the prophet Zarathustra; 
according to tke rabbis the laws revealed unto Moses on Mount Sinai 


were even before the creation of the world the object of the observa- 
tion of God; for the faithful Mohammedan the Koran is the copy 
of an ever-present original in heaven, the contents of which were 
dictated word for word to Mohammed by the angel Gabriel. Whoever 
ponders the similar claims of all these religions for the infallibility of 
their sacred books, to him it becomes difficult to hold the dogma 
of the Christian Church concerning the inspiration and infallibility of 
the Bible as alone true and the similar dogmas of other religions 
as being false. Rather he will accept the view that in all these ex- 
amples there are found the same motives of the religious mind, that 
here is given an expression to the same need common to all seeking 
for an absolute and abiding basis for their faith. 

The study of the comparison of religions has discovered in religions 
other than that of Christianity many very striking parallels to many 
narratives and teachings of the Bible. It may be well to recall very 
briefly some of the important points. Owing to the fact that the 
Assyrian cuneiform writings have now been deciphered, there has 
been found a story of the creation which has many characteristics 
in common with those of the Bible. There is found a story of a flood, 
which in its very details can be regarded as the forerunner of the 
story of the flood in the Bible. There have been found Assyrian 
penitential psalms, which, in consciousness of guilt and in earnest- 
ness of prayer for forgiveness, can well be compared with many 
psalms of the Bible. Recently the Code of the Assyrian King Ham- 
murabi, who reigned two thousand three hundred years before 
Christ, has been discovered. The similarity of this Code with many 
of the early Mosaic Laws has called general attention to this fact. In 
the Persian religion there are found teachings of the Kingdom of God, 
of the good spirits who surround the throne of God, of the Spirit 
hostile to God and of an army of his demons, of the judgment of each 
soul after death, of a heaven with eternal light and of the dark 
abyss of hell, of the future struggle of the multitudes of good and bad 
spirits and the victory over the bad through a divine hero and 
saviour, of the general resurrection of the dead, of the awful destruc- 
tion of the world and the creation of a new and better w r orld, - 
teachings which are also found in the later Jewish theology and apo- 
calypse, so that the acceptance of a dependence of Jewish upon 
corresponding Persian teaching can hardly be avoided. Also Grecian 
influence is observed in later Jewish literature, in proverbs, in the 
wisdom of Solomon and the Son of Sirach; especially in the Alex- 
andrian Jewish theology are found Platonic thoughts of an eternal, 
ideal world, of the heavenly home of the soul, and the Stoic concep-' 
tion of a world-ruling divine Logos. 

It is from this source that the Logos to which Philo had already 
ascribed the meaning of the Son of God and the Bringer of a divine 


revelation crossed over into Christian theology and became the 
foundation of the dogma of the Church concerning the person of 
Christ. Of still greater importance than even all this was the opening 
of the Indian and especially the Buddhistic religious writings. In 
these we have, five hundred years before Christianity, the revelation 
of redemptive religion, resting upon the ethical foundation of the 
abnegation of self and the withdrawal from the world. In the centre 
of this religion is Gautama Buddha, the ideal teacher of redeeming 
truth, whose human life was adorned by the faith of his followers 
with a crown of wonderful legends; from an abode in heaven, out of 
mercy to the world, he descended into the world, conceived and 
born of a virgin mother, greeted and entertained by heavenly spirits, 
recognized beforehand by a pious seer as the future redeemer of the 
world; as a youth he manifested a wisdom beyond that of his teachers. 
Then after the reception of an illuminating revelation, he victoriously 
overcomes the temptation of the devil, who would cause him to be- 
come faithless to his call to redemption. Then he begins to preach 
of the coming of the Kingdom of Justice, and sends forth his dis- 
ciples, two by two, as messengers of his gospel to all people. Although 
he declares that it is not his calling to perform miracles, neverthe- 
less the legends indeed tell how many sick were healed, how with the 
contents of a small basket hundreds were fed, how possessed of all 
knowledge he reveals hidden things; how overcoming the limitations 
of space and time, swaying in the air, being transfigured in a heavenly 
light, he reveals himself to his disciples just before his death. And 
at last, in the faith of his followers, having passed from the position 
of a human teacher to that of an eternal heavenly spirit and lord 
of the world, he is exalted as the object of prayer and reverence, to 
many millions of the human race in Southern and Eastern Asia. 

It is hardly possible that the knowledge of this parallel from India 
to the New Testament, and of the Babylonian and Persian parallel 
to the Old Testament, can be without influence upon the religious 
thought of Christian people. Although we may be ever so much 
convinced concerning the essential superiority of our religion over 
all other religions, nevertheless the dogmatic contrast between abso- 
lute truth on the one side and complete falsity on the other can no 
more be maintained. In place of this view there must enter the view 
of a relative grade of differences between the higher and lower stages 
of development. No longer can we see in other religions only mis- 
takes and fiction, but under the husk of their legends many precious 
kernels of truth must be seen, expressions of inner religious feelings 
and of noble ethical sentiments. One should therefore accept the 
position not to object to the same discrimination between husk and 
kernel in the matter of one's own religion, and to recognize in its 
inherited traditions and dogmas legendary elements, the explanation 


of which is to be found in psychical motives and in historical sur- 
roundings, even as they are found in the corresponding parts of 
religions other than the Christian religion. Therefore the historical 
comparison of religions takes us away from an absolute dogmatic 
positivism to a relative evolutionary manner of study, placing all 
religions without exception under the laws of time progression and 
under the causal connection of the law of cause and effect. The 
isolation of religion therefore is no more. It is regarded as being 
a part of other human historical affairs, and must yield to the test of a 
thorough unhindered research. The value of the Christian religion 
can never suffer in the view of a reasonable man, when it is not ac- 
cepted in blind faith, but as the result of discriminating comparison. 
As the evolutionary philosophy of religion uses the method of 
science without exception in the case of all historical religions, so 
also it does not shrink from taking up the question of the beginning 
of religion, but believes that here also is found the key in the ana- 
lytical, critical, and comparative method. And here is found the 
assistance of the comparative study of languages, ethnology, and 

The celebrated Sanscrit scholar, Max Mliller, sought in the com- 
parative study of mythology to prove the etymological relation of 
many of the Grecian gods and heroes with those of the mythology 
of India and to trace the common origin of all these mythical beings 
and legends in the personification of the movements of the heavenly 
bodies, the thunder and lightning, the tempest and the rain. All 
mythical belief in gods of the Indo-Germanic peoples seems to have 
arisen out of a poetical view and dramatic personification of the 
powers of nature. Suggestive as this hypothesis is, it is not by any 
means sufficient to give us a complete explanation of the subject. 
In fact, others have shown that primitive religion does not altogether 
consist in mythical conceptions, but mainly in reverential actions, 
sacrifices, sacraments, vows, and other similar cults, which have 
very little to do with the atmospherical powers of nature, but rather 
with the social life of primitive people. And when once the sight 
was clearly directed to the social meaning of the religious rites, it was 
then observed that even the earliest legends concerning the gods 
were connected far more closely with the habits and customs of 
early society than with the facts of nature. Tylor's celebrated book 
concerning "Primitive Civilization" is written from this standpoint, 
an epoch-making book, showing the original close connection of 
religion with the entire civilization of humanity, with the views of 
life and death, the social customs, the forms of law, their strivings in 
art and science; a book with a large amount of information, brought 
together from observation on all sides. In this channel are found all 
the researches which to-day are classified under the name of Folk- 


lore; seeking to gather the still existing characteristic customs and 
forms, legends, stories, and sayings, in order to compose these and to 
discover the survivals of earliest religion, poetry, and civilization of 
humanity. The gain of this study pursued with so great diligence is 
not to be underrated. These studies show that all that, which at one 
time existed as faith in the spirit of humanity, possessed within its 
very nature the strongest power of continuance, so that in new and 
strange conditions and in other forms it continued to remain. Under 
all changes and progress of history there is still found an unbroken 
connection of constant development. 

As important, however, as the possession of a general knowledge 
of historical forms of development is to the philosophy of religion, 
nevertheless the possession of this knowledge is not wholly a fulfill- 
ment of the purpose of the philosophy of religion. To understand a 
development means not merely to know how one thing follows as the 
result of the other, but also to understand the law which lies at the 
foundation of all empirical changes and at the same time controls 
the end of the development. If this principle holds good in the 
understanding of the development in the processes of nature, much 
more does the principle hold good in understanding the processes of 
intellectual development of humanity, which have for us not only 
a theoretical, but at the same time an eminently practical interest. 
The philosopher of religion sees in religious history not merely the 
coming together of similar forms, but an advance from the lowest 
stage of childlike ignorance to an ever purer and richer realization 
of the idea of religion, a divinely ordained progress for the education 
of humanity from the slavery of nature to the freedom of the spirit. 
The question now arises: where do we find the principle and law of 
this ever-rising development? Where do we find the measure of 
judgment for the relative value of religious appearances? It is clear 
that the general principle of the complete development cannot be 
found in a single fact which is only one of the many manifestations 
of the general principle, and it is just as clear that the absolute 
norm of judgment is not found in a single fact always relative, 
presenting to us the object of judgment and therefore being impos- 
sible to stand as the norm of judgment. Therefore the principle of 
religious development and the norm of its judgment can only be 
found in the inner being of the spirit of humanity, namely, in the 
necessary striving of- the mind into an harmonious arrangement of 
all our conceptions, or the idea of the truth, and into the complete 
order of all our purposes, or the idea of the good. These ideas unite 
in the highest unity, *in the Idea of God. Therefore the consciousness 
of God is the revelation of the original innate longing of reason after 
complete unity as a principle of universal harmony and consistence in 
all our thinking and willing. Hence, in the first place, arises the result 


that the development of the consciousness of God in the history of 
religion is always dependent upon the existing conditions of the two 
united sides, the theoretical perception of the truth and the moral 
standard of life. In the second place the result arises that the judg- 
ment of the value of all appearances in the history of religion depends 
as to whether and how far these appearances agree with the idea of 
the true and the good, and correspond with the demands of reason 
and conscience. That science which is engaged with the idea of the 
good we name Ethics; that which is engaged with the last principles 
of the perception of truth, using the expression of Aristotle, we 
may name Metaphysics, or following Plato - - Dialectic. Recognizing 
then in the idea of God the synthesis of the idea of the true and the 
good, the philosophy of religion is closely related with both, Ethics 
and Metaphysics. 

At present the relation of religion to morality is an object of much 
controversy. There are many who hold that morality without religion 
is not only possible but also very desirable; since they are of the 
opinion that moral strength is weakened, the will is without freedom, 
and its motives corrupted on account of religious conceptions. On 
the other hand, the Church, considering the experience of history, 
finds that religion has ever proved itself to be the strongest and most 
necessary aid to morality. In this contest the philosophy of religion 
occupies the position of a judge who is called upon to adjust the rela- 
tive rights of the parties. The philosophy of religion brings to light 
the historical fact that from the very beginnings of human civilization, 
social life and morality were closely connected with religious con- 
ceptions and usages, and indeed always so interchangeable in their 
influence that the position of social civilization on the one side cor- 
responded with the position of religious civilization on the other, 
just as the water-level in two communicating pipes. Therefore it 
follows that it is unjust and not historical to blame religion on ac- 
count of the defects of a national and temporal morality; for these 
defects of morality, with the corresponding errors of religion, find a 
common ground in a low stage of development of the entire civiliza- 
tion of the people of the time and age. Further, it becomes the task 
of the philosophy of religion to examine whether this correspondence 
of religion and morality, recognized in history, is also found in the 
very nature of morality and religion. This question in the main is 
answered without doubt in the affirmative, for it is clear that the 
religious feeling of dependence upon one all-ruling power is well 
adapted not only to make keen the moral consciousness of obligation 
and to deepen the feeling of responsibility , but also to endow moral 
courage with power and to strengthen the hope of the solution of 
moral purposes. The clearer religious faith comprehends the rela- 
tion of man to God, so much the more will that faith prove itself as 


a strong motive and a great incentive, of the moral life. Such a con- 
ception will not make the moral will unfree but truly free, not in the 
sense of a selfish choice, but in the sense of a love that serves, knowing 
itself as an instrument of the divine will, who binds us all into a 
social organism, the kingdom of God. And, on the other hand, the 
more ideal the moral view of life, the higher and greater its aims, 
the more it recognizes its great task to care for the welfare not only 
of the individual but of all, to cooperate in the welfare and develop- 
ment of all forms of society, the more earnestly the moral mind will 
need a sincere faith that this is God's world, that above all the 
changes of time an eternal will is on the throne, whose all-wise guid- 
ance causes everything to be for the best unto those who love him. 
A like middle position of arbitration falls to the philosophy of 
religion in the matter of the relation of religion to science. The 
first demand of science is freedom of thought, according to its own 
logical laws, and its fundamental assumption is the possibility of 
the knowledge of the world on the basis of the unchangeable laws 
of all existence and events. With this fundamental demand science 
places itself in opposition to the formal character of ecclesiastical 
doctrine so far as the doctrine claims infallible authority resting 
upon a divine revelation. And the fundamental assumption of the 
regular law of the course of the world is in opposition to the contents 
of ecclesiastical doctrine concerning the miraculous interposition 
in the course of nature and of history. To the superficial observer 
there appears therefore to exist an irreconcilable conflict between 
science and religion. Here is the work of the philosophy of religion, 
to take away the appearance of an irreconcilable opposition between 
science and religion, in that the philosophy of religion teaches first 
of all to distinguish between the essence of religion and the ecclesias- 
tical doctrines of a certain religion, and to comprehend the historical 
origin of these doctrines in the forms of thought of past times. To 
this purpose the method of psychological analysis and of historical 
comparison mentioned above is of service. When, then, by this 
critical process religion is traced to its real essence in the emotional 
consciousness of God, to which the dogmatic doctrines stand as 
secondary products and varied symbols, then it remains to show 
that between the essence of religion and that which science demands 
and presupposes, there exists not conflict but harmony. When the 
idea of God is recognized as the synthesis of the ideas of the true 
and the good, so then must all truth as sought by science, even as the 
highest good, which the system of ethics places as the purpose of all 
action - - these must be recognized as the revelation of God in his 
eternal reason and goodness. The laws of our rational thinking 
then cannot be in conflict with divine revelation in history, and the 
laws of the natural order of the world can no more stand in conflict 


with the world-governing Omnipotence; but both, the laws of our 
thinking and those of the real world, reveal themselves as the har- 
monious revelations of the creative reason of God, which, according 
to Plato's fitting word, is the efficient ground of being as well as of 
knowing. It is therefore not merely a demand of religious belief that 
there is real truth in our God-consciousness, that there should be 
an activity and revelation of God himself in the human mind; it is 
also in the same manner a demand of science considering its last 
principles, that the world, in order to be known by us as a rational, 
regulated order, must have for its principle an eternal creative 
reason. Long ago the old master of thinking, Aristotle, recognized 
this fact clearly, when he said that order in the world without a prin- 
ciple of order could be as little thinkable as the order of an army 
without a commanding general. 

But while it is true that science, as the ground of the possibility 
of its knowledge of the truth, must presuppose the same general 
principle of intellectual knowledge which religion has as the object 
of its practical belief, then by principle the apprehension is excluded 
that any possible progress on the part of science in its knowledge 
of the world can ever destroy religion. We are rather the more 
justified in the hope that all true knowledge of science will be a help 
to religion, and will serve as the means of purifying religion from the 
dross of superstition. 

Truly it can easily be shown that a divine government of the 
world breaking through, and now and then suspending the regular 
order of nature through miraculous intervention, would not be more 
majestic, but far more limited and human, than such a government 
which reveals itself as everywhere and always the same in and 
through its own ordained laws in the world. And again, that a 
revelation prescribing secret and incomprehensible doctrines and 
rites, demanding from humanity a blind faith, would far less be in 
harmony with the guiding wisdom and love of God, and far less 
could work for the intellectual liberty and perfection of humanity, 
than such a revelation which is working in and through the reason 
and conscience of humanity, and is realizing its purpose in the pro- 
gressive development of our intellectual and moral capacities and 
powers. When therefore science raises critical misgivings against 
the supernatural and irrational doctrines of positive religion, then 
the real and rightly understood interests of religion are not harmed 
but rather advanced; for this criticism serves religion in helping 
it to become free from the unintellectual inheritance of its early 
days, in helping religion to consider its true intellectual and moral 
essence, and to bring to a full display all the blessed powers which 
are concealed within its nature, to press through the narrow walls of 
an ecclesiasticism out into the full life of humanity, and to work as 


leaven for the ennoblement of humanity. Not in conflict with science 
and moral culture, but only in harmony with these, can religion come 
nearer to the attainment of its ideal, which consists in the worship of 
God in spirit and in truth. Even though they may not be conscious 
of their purpose, but nevertheless in fact all honest work of science 
and all the endeavors of social and ethical humanity have part in 
the attainment of this ideal. 

It is the work of the philosophy of religion to make clear that all 
work of the thinking and striving spirit of humanity, in its deepest 
meaning, is a work in the kingdom of God, as service to God, who is 
truth and goodness. It is the work of the philosophy of religion 
to explain various misunderstandings, to bring together opposing 
sides, and so to prepare the way for a more harmonious cooperation 
of all, and for an always hopeful progress of all on the road to the 
high aims of a humanity fraternally united in the divine spirit. 


(Translated from the German by Dr. J. H. Woods, Harvard University.) 

[Ernst Troeltsch, Professor of Systematic Theology, University of Heidelberg, 
since 1894. b. February 17, 1865, Augsburg, Bavaria. Doctor of Theology. 
Professor University of Bonn, 1892-94. Author of John Gerhard and Mel- 
anchthon; Richard Rubbe; The Scientific Attitude and its Demands on 
Theology; The Absoluteness of Christianity, and of the History of Religion; 
Political Ethics and Christianity; The Historic Element in Kant's Religious 

THE philosophy of religion of to-day is philosophy of religion so far 
only, and in such a sense, as this word means science of religion or 
philosophy with reference to religion. The science of religion of 
former days was first dogmatic theology, deriving its dogmas from 
the Bible and from Church tradition, expounding them apologetic- 
ally with the metaphysical speculation of the later period of anti- 
quity, and regarding the non-Christian religions as sinful derange- 
ments and obscure fragments of the primitive revelation. This 
lasted sixteen centuries, and is confined to-day to strictly ecclesias- 
tical circles. Next, science of religion became natural theology, 
which proved the existence of God by the nature of thought and by 
the constitution of reality, and also the immortality of the soul by 
the concept of the soul and by moral demands, thus constructing 
natural or rational dogmas and putting these dogmas into more 
or less friendly relations with traditional Christianity. This lasted 
about two centuries, and is to-day of the not strictly ecclesiastical 
or pietistic circles, which still wish to hold fast to religion. Both 
kinds of science of religion exist no longer for the strict science. 
The first was, in reality, supernaturalistic dogmatics, the second 
was, in reality, a substitution of philosophy for religion. The first 
was demolished by the criticism of miracles in the eighteenth century, 
the second by the criticism of knowledge in the nineteenth century, 
which, in its turn, rests upon Hume and Kant. 

The science of religion of to-day keeps in touch with that which 
without doubt factually exists and is an object of actual experience, 
the subjective religious consciousness. The distrust of ecclesiastical 
and rationalistic dogmas has made, in the thought of the present, 
every other treatment impossible. So the spirit of empiricism has 
here as at other points completely prevailed. But empiricism in this 
field means psychological analysis. This analysis is pursued by the 


present to the widest extent : on the one side by anthropologists and 
archaeologists, who investigate the life of the soul in primitive peoples 
and thus indicate the particular function and condition of religion 
in these states; on the other side, by the modern experimental 
psychologists and psychological empiricists, who, by self-observa- 
tion, and especially by the collection of observations by others and of 
personal testimony, study religion, and then, from the point of view 
of the concepts of experimental psychology, examine the main 
phenomena thus found. 

Now, such an empirical psychology of religion has been constructed 
with considerable success. In this German literature, it is true, has 
cooperated to a slight degree only. The German theologians have 
held to the older statements of the psychology of Kant, of Schleier- 
macher, of Hegel, and of Fries, alone, which, in principle, were on 
the right path, but which combined the purely psychological with 
metaphysical and epistemological problems to such a degree that it 
was impossible to reach a really unprejudiced attitude. German 
psychologists remain, furthermore, under the spell of psycho-physio- 
logy and of quantitative statements of measure, and have, conse- 
quently, not liked to advance into this field, which is inaccessible 
to such statements. More productive than the German psychology 
for this subject is the French, which has attacked the complex facts 
far more courageously. Here, however, under the predominance of 
positivism, there prevails, on the whole, the tendency to regard 
religion, in its essence, anthropologically or medically and patho- 
logically in connection with bodily conditions. This is the confusion 
of conditions and origins with the essence of the thing itself, which 
can be determined only by the thing, and is, by no means, bound 
exclusively to these conditions. Notwithstanding, the works of 
Marillier, Murisier, and Flournoy have considerably aided the 
problem. More impartially than all of these, the English and Ameri- 
can psychology has investigated our subject. Here we have a master- 
piece in the Gifford Lectures of William James, which collects into 
a single reservoir similar investigations such as have been carried on 
by Coe and Starbuck. There is here no tendency to a mechanism of 
consciousness, or to the dogma of the causal and necessary structure 
of consciousness. And to just this is due the freshness and impartial- 
ity of the analyses which James gives out of his enviable knowledge of 
characteristic cases. James rightly emphasizes the endlessly different 
intensity of religious experiences, and the great number of points 
of view and of judgments which thereby results. He also rightly 
emphasizes the connection of this different intensity with irreducible 
typical constitutions of the soul's life, with the optimistic and the 
melancholy disposition; hence there arise constantly, even within 
the same religion, essentially different types of religiousness. Limit- 


ing himself, then, to the most intense experiences, he decides that 
the characteristic of religious states is the sense of presence of the 
divine, which one might perhaps describe in other terms, but which 
still continues the specifically divine, with the opposed emotional 
effects of a solemn sense of contrast and of enthusiastic exaltation. 
He pictures these senses of presence, and illustrates them by vision- 
ary and hallucinatory representations of the abstract. With this are 
connected impulsive and inhibitive conditions for the appearance of 
these senses of presence and of reality, descriptions of the effects 
upon the emotional life and action, and, above all, the analysis of 
the event usually called conversion, in which the religious experi- 
ence out of subconscious antecedents becomes, in various ways, the 
centre of the soul's life. All this is description, but it is based upon 
a mass of examples and explained by general psychological cate- 
gories which, by the occurrence of the religious event only, receive 
a thoroughly specific coloring. It is a description after the manner 
of Kirchhoff's mechanics; permanent and similar types, and, like- 
wise, similar conditions for their relations to the rest of the soul's 
life are sought out everywhere, without maintaining to have proven 
at the same time, in this way, an intellectual necessity for the con- 
nection. But the characteristic peculiarity of religious phenomena 
is thus conceived as in no other previous analysis. 

All this is still, however, nothing more than psychologic. For the 
science of religion it accomplishes nothing more than the psycho- 
logical determination of the peculiarity of the phenomenon, of its 
environment, its relations and consequences. It is evident that the 
phenomenon occurs in an indefinite number of varieties; and the 
chosen point of departure, in unusual and excessive cases, frequently 
diffuses over religion itself the character of the bizarre and abnor- 
mal. Consequently nothing whatever is said about the amount of 
truth or of reality in these cases. This, by the very principles of 
such a psychology, is impossible. It analyzes, produces types and 
categories, points out comparatively constant connections and inter- 
actions. But this cannot be the last word for the science of religion. 
It demands, above all, empirical knowledge of the phenomenon; but 
it demands this only in order, on the basis of this knowledge, to be 
able to answer the question of the amount of truth. But this leads 
to an entirely different problem, that of the theory of knowledge, 
which has its own conditions of solution. It is impossible to stop 
at a merely empirical psychology. The question is not merely of 
given facts, but of the amount of knowledge in these facts. But pure 
empiricism will not succeed in answering this question. The question 
with regard to the amount of truth is always a question of validity. 
The question with regard to validity can, however, be decided only 
by logical and by general, conceptual investigations. Thus we pass 


over from the ground of empiricism to that of rationalism, and the 
question is, what the theory of knowledge or rationalism signifies 
for the science of religion. 

Such a synthesis of the rational and irrational, of the psychological 
and the theory of knowledge, is the main problem raised by the 
teaching of Kant, and the significance of Kant is that he clearly and 
once for all raised the problem in this way. He had the same strong 
mind for the empirical and actual as for the rational and conceptual 
elements of human knowledge, and constructed science as a balance 
between the two. (He destroyed forever the a priori speculative 
rationalism of the necessary ideas of thought, and the analytical 
deductions from them, which undertakes to call reality out of the 
necessity of thought as such. He restricted regressive rationalism 
to metaphysical hypotheses and probabilities, the evidence for which 
rests upon the inevitability of the logical operations which leads to 
them, which, however, apply general concepts without reference to 
experience, and therefore become empty, and thus afford no real 
knowledge.) On the other hand, he proclaimed the formal, imman- 
ent rationalism of experience, in attempting to unite Hume's 
truth with the truth of Leibnitz and of Plato. In this way he suc- 
ceeded in grasping the great problem of thought by the root, and 
in putting attempts at solutions on the right basis. So it is not a 
mere national custom of German philosophizing, if we take our 
bearings, for the most part, from this greatest of German thinkers, 
but it is, absolutely, the most fruitful and keenest way of putting the 
problem. It is true, the solutions which Kant made, and which are 
closely connected with the classical mechanics of that time, with 
the undeveloped condition of the psychology of that time, and with 
the incompleteness of historical thinking then just beginning, have 
been, meantime, more than once given up again. A- simple return to 
him is therefore impossible. But the problem was put by him in 
a fundamental way, and his solutions need nothing more than modi- 
fication and completion. 

Now all this is especially true in the case of the science of religion. 
Here also Kant took the same course, which seemed to me right for 
the theoretical knowledge of the natural sciences and for anthro- 
pology. In practical philosophy also, to which he rightly counts 
philosophy of religion, he seeks laws of the practical reason analogous 
to the laws of theoretical reason, axioms of the ethical, aesthetic, 
and religious consciousness which are already contained a priori 
in the elementary appearances in these fields, and, in application 
to concrete reality, produce just these activities of the reason. Here 
also one should grasp reason only as contained in life itself, the 
a priori law itself already effective in the diversity of the appearances 
should make one's self clear-sighted and so competent for a criticism 


of the stream of the soul's appearances. Seizing upon itself in the 
practical reality, the practical reason criticises the psychological 
complex, rejects as illusion and error that which cannot be com- 
prehended in an a priori law, selects that part of the same which 
needs basis and centre and requires only clearness with regard to 
itself, clears the way for revelations of a life consciousness of its own 
legality and becomes capable of the development of critically purified 

If this is, in principle, valid, the Kantian thought, in the further 
detail, is maintained in principle only and as a w T hole. The elabora- 
tion itself will have to be quite different from that of his own. Even 
by Kant himself, on this very point, the synthesis of empiricism and 
rationalism is far from being elaborated with the necessary rigor and 
consistency. And to-day we have a quite differently developed 
psychology of religion, in contrast with which that presupposed by 
Kant is bare and thin. Finally, there remain in the whole method of 
the critical system unsolved problems; by failure to solve these, or 
by too hasty solution, science of religion, especially, is affected. 

To make clear the present condition of the problem, one ought, 
above all, to indicate the modifications to which the Kantian theory 
of religion must submit, -- must submit, especially, by reason of a 
more delicate psychology, such as we have, with remarkable rich- 
ness, in James and the American psychologists connected with him. 
There are four points with regard to this question. 

The first is the question of the relation of psychology and theory 
of knowledge in the very establishment of the laws of the theory of 
knowledge. Are not the search for and discovery of the laws of the 
theory of knowledge themselves possible only by way of psychological 
ascertainment of facts, itself then a psychological undertaking and 
consequently dependent upon all its conditions? It is the much dis- 
cussed question of the circle which itself lies at the outset of the 
critical system. The answer to this is that this circle lies in the very 
being of all knowledge, and must therefore be resolutely committed. 
It signifies nothing more than the presupposition of all thought, the 
trust in a reason 'which establishes itself only by making use of 
itself. The unmistakable elements of the logical assert themselves 
as logical in distinction from the psychological, and from this point 
on reason must be trusted in all its confusions and entanglements to 
recognize itself within the psychological. It is the courage of thought . 
as Hegel says, which may presuppose that the self-knowledge of rea- 
son may trust itself, presuppose that reason is contained within the 
psychological; or it is the ethical and teleological presupposition of 
all thought, as Lotze says, which believes in knowledge and the 
validity of its laws for the sake of a connected meaning for reality, 
and which, therefore, trusts to recognize itself out of the psycholog- 


ical mass. The establishment, therefore, of the laws of the theory 
of knowledge is not itself a psychological analysis, but a knowledge 
of self by the logical by virtue of which it extricates itself out of the 
psychological mass. Theory of knowledge, like every rationalism, 
includes, it is true, very real presuppositions with regard to the sig- 
nificant, rational, and teleologically connective character of reality, 
and without this presupposition it is untenable; in it lies its root. 
It is insight of former days, the importance of which, however, must 
constantly be emphasized anew, that discusses the validity of the 
rational as opposed to the merely empirical. But still more im- 
portant than this thesis are several inferences which are given 
with it. 

The establishment of the laws of consciousness, in which we 
produce experience, is a selection of the laws out of experience itself, 
a knowledge of itself by the reason contained in the very experience 
by way of the analysis which extracts it. It is then an endless task, 
completed by constantly renewed attacks, and always only approxi- 
mately solvable. The complete separation of the merety psychological 
and actual and of the logical and necessary will never be completely 
accomplished, but will always be open to doubt; one can only 
attempt always to limit more vigorously the field of what is doubtful. 
And with this something further is connected. 

The inexhaustible production of life becomes constantly, in the 
latent amount of reason, richer than the analysis discerns, or, in 
other words, the laws which are brought into the light of logic will 
always be less the amount of reason not brought into consciousness, 
and conscious logic will always be obliged to correct itself and enrich 
itself out of the unartificial logical operations arising in contact with 
the object. So a finished system of a priori principles, but this sys- 
tem will always be in growth, will be obliged unceasingly to correct 
itself, and to contain open spaces. 

Finally, and above all, in case of this separation, there remains 
within the psychologically conditioned appearance, a residuum, 
which is either not conceived, but is later reduced to law and thereby 
a conceived phenomenon, or which never can be so, and is therefore 
illusion and error. If the psychological and the theoretical for know- 
ledge are to be separated, then that can occur, not merely to show 
that both must ahvays be together, and form real experience only 
when together, but there must also be a rejection of that which is 
merely psychological and not rational since it is illusion and error. 
The distinction between the apparent and the real was the point 
of departure which made the whole theory necessary, and, accord- 
ingly, the merely psychological must remain appearance and error 
side by side with that which is psychological and, at the same time, 
theoretical for knowledge. There always remains in consciousness 


a residuum of the inconceivable, that is, inconceivable since it is 
illusion and error. This amounts to saying that reality is never 
fully rational, but is engaged in a struggle between the rational 
and anti-rational. The anti-rational or irrational, in the sense of 
psychological illusion and error, belongs also to the real, and strives 
against the rational. The true and rational reality to be attained 
by thought is always in conjunction with the untrue reality, the 
psychological, that containing illusion and error. 

All this signifies that the rationalism of the theory of knowledge 
must be conditional, partly owing to the corrective and enriching 
fecundation by primitive and naive thought, partly owing to never 
quite separable admixture of illusion and error. So, long ago, the 
system of categorical forms, as Kant constructed it for theoretical 
and practical reason, began to change, and can never again acquire 
the rigidity which Kant's rationalism intended to give it forever- 
more. And thus the critical system's rational reality of law produced 
by reason always contains below itself and beside itself the merely 
psychological reality of the factual, to which also illusion and error 
belong, --a reality which can never be rationalized, but only set 
aside. This, too, is also true for the philosophy of religion : the rational 
reduction of the psychological facts of religion to the general laws of 
consciousness w r hich prevail among them is a task constantly to be 
resumed anew by the study of reality, and follows the movements 
of primitive religion in order to find there first the rational basis; 
the reduction is, however, always approximate, can comprehend 
the main points only, and must leave much open, the rational ground 
for which is not or not yet evident; finally it has unceasingly to 
reckon with the irrational as illusion and error, which attaches to the 
rational, and yet is not explainable by it. The two realities, which 
the critical system must recognize at its very foundation, continue 
in strife with each other, and this strife as the strife of divine truth 
with human illusion is for the science of religion of still more im- 

The second correction of the Kantian teaching is only a further 
consequence from this state of things. If the attitude of psychology 
and theory of knowledge requires a strict separation, it requires it 
only for the purpose of more correct relation. The laws of the theory 
of knowledge are separated from the merely psychological actuality, 
but still can be produced only out of it. Thus, as a matter of fact, 
psychological analysis is always the presupposition for the correct 
conception of all these laws. Psychology is the entrance gate to 
theory of knowledge. This is true for theoretical logic as well as for 
the practical logic of the moral, the sesthetical, and the religious. 
But just at this point the present, on the basis of its psychological 
investigation, presses far beyond the original form of the Kantian 


teaching. This is not the place to describe this, more closely, with 
reference to the first of the subjects just mentioned. But it is im- 
portant to insist that this is especially true with respect to the 
Kantian doctrine of religion. The Kantian doctrine of religion is 
founded on the moral and religious psychology of Deism, which had 
made the connection, frequent in experience, of moral feelings with 
religious emotion the sole basis of the philosophy of religion, and 
had, in the manner of the psychology of the eighteenth century, 
immediately changed this connection into intellectual reflections, 
in accord with which the moral law demands its originator and 
guarantee. Kant accepted this psychology of religion without proof 
and built upon it his main law of the religious consciousness, in 
accordance with which a synthetic judgment a priori is operative 
in religion (arising in the moral experience of freedom), which 
requires that the world be regarded as subject to the purposes of 
freedom. It is, however, extremely one-sided, to give religion its 
place just between the elements, and a rather violent translation of 
the religious constitution into reflection. The error of this psycho- 
logy of religion had been discovered and corrected already by Schleier- 
macher. But Schleiermacher, for his part too, also failed to deny 
himself an altogether too sudden metaphysical interpretation of the 
religious a priori which he had demonstrated, since he not only 
described the a priori judgment of things, from the point of view of 
absolute dependence upon God, as a vague feeling, but raised this 
feeling, by reason of the supposed lack of difference, in it, between 
thought and will, reason and being, to a world-principle, and inter- 
preted the idea of God contained in this feeling in the terms of his 
Spinozism, the lack of difference between God and Nature within 
the Absolute. A real theory of knowledge of religion must keep 
itself much more independent of all metaphysical presuppositions 
and inferences, and must admit that the essence of the religious 
a priori is extorted from a thoroughly impartial psychological 
analysis. And this is always the place where works, such as those 
of James, come into play. Religion as a special category or form of 
psychical constitution, the result of a more or less vague presence 
of the divine in the soul, the feeling of presence and reality with 
reference to the superhuman or infinite, that is without any doubt 
a much more correct point of departure for the analysis of the rational 
a priori of religion, and it remains to make this new psychology 
fruitful for the theory of knowledge of religion. That will be one of 
the chief tasks of the future. 

The third change relates to the distinction of the empirical and 
intelligible Ego, which Kant connected closely, almost indissolubly 
with his main epistemological thought of the formal rationalisms 
immanent in experience. Kant rationalized the whole outer and 


inner experience, by means of a priori laws, into a totality, conform- 
ing to law, appearing in intuitive forms of space and time, causally 
and necessarily rigidly connected. The freedom autonomously 
determining itself out of the logical idea, and contrasting itself with 
the psychological stream, produces out of the confused psycholican 
reality this scientific formation of the true reality. The product of 
thought, however, swallows its own maker. For the same acts of 
freedom, which autonomously produced the formation of the reality 
of law, remain themselves in the temporal sequence of psychical 
events, and, therefore, themselves, with that formation, lapse into 
the sequence which is under mechanical law. The intelligible Ego 
creates the world of law, and finds itself therein, with its activity, as 
empirical Ego, that is, as product of the great world-mechanism and 
of its causal sequence. It is an intolerable, violent contradiction, 
and it is no solution of this contradiction to refer the empirical Ego 
to appearance, and the intelligible Ego to actuality existing in itself, 
if the operations of the intelligible Ego, also a constituent part of 
what takes place in the soul, occur in time and so relapse irrecover- 
ably into phenomenality and its mechanism. All the ingenuity 
of modern interpretation of Kant has not succeeded in making this 
circle more tolerable, all shifting of one and the same thing to differ- 
ent points of view has only enriched scientific terminology with 
masterpieces of parenthetical caution, but not removed the objection 
that two different points of view do not, as a matter of fact, exist 
side by side, but conflict within the same object. 

This circle is especially intolerable for the psychology of religion 
and its application to the theory of knowledge. The psychology of 
religion certainly shows us that the deeper feeling of all religion is 
not a product of the mechanical sequence, but an effect of the super- 
sensuous itself as it is felt there; it believes that it arises in the 
intelligible Ego by way of some kind of connection with the super- 
sensuous world. This, however, becomes completely impossible for 
the Kantian theory of the empirical Ego, and all distinctions of a 
double point of view in no wise change the fact that these points of 
view are mutually absolutely exclusive. Here we have the results 
of psychology which the expression of religious emotion confirms, in 
that religion can be causally reduced to nothing else, totally opposed 
to the consequences of such a theory of knowledge. Kant had him- 
self often enough practically felt this, and spoke then of freedom as 
an experience of communion with the supersensuous as a possible 
but unprovable affair, while all that, in case of a strict adherence 
to the phenomenality of time and of the theory of the empirical 
Ego, which is a consequence of it, is completely impossible. No- 
thing can be of any assistance here except a decisive renunciation 
of those epistemological positions which contradict the results of 


psj-chology, and which are themselves only doctrinaire consequences 
from other positions. Nothing else is possible but the modification 
of the phenomenality of time, in such a way that by no means 
everything which belongs to time belongs also as a matter of 
course to phenomenality, but that the autonomous rational acts 
which occur in the time series of consciousness possess their own 
intelligible time-form. At the same time the concept of causality 
closely connected with the concept of time is to be modified so 
that there should be not only an immanent and phenomenal causal 
connection, but also a regular interaction between phenomenal and 
intelligible, psychological and rational, conscious reality. At the 
same time the conclusion is also given up, that the Ego submits 
unconditionally and directly to phenomenality and to causal neces- 
sity, while the same Ego, once more, in the same way, as a whole, 
from another point of view, is subordinate to freedom and auto- 
nomy, that is, self-constitutive through ideas. The two Egos must 
lie not side by side, but in and over one another. It must be 
possible that, within the phenomenal Ego by a creative act of 
the intelligible Ego in it, the personality should be formed and 
developed as a realization of the autonomous reason, so that the 
intelligible issues from the phenomenal, the rational from the psy- 
chological, the former elaborates and shapes the latter, and between 
both a relation of regular interaction, but not of causal constraint, 
takes place. This rather deep, incisive modification is, in its turn, an 
approach of the Kantian teaching to empiricism, but still at the 
same time, in the destruction and subordination of the phenomenal 
and intelligible world, in the emphasis upon the single personality 
issuing from the act of reason, an adherence to rationalism. But 
since the distinction and the interrelation between the rational and 
the empirical forms the point of departure for the critical system, 
and this point of departure requires at the same time the moulding 
and shaping of the empirical by the rational and the rejection of the 
psychological appearance; a mere parallelism is altogether impossi- 
ble, but an interrelation is included, and a task set for the effort and 
labor which constantly makes the rational penetrate the empirical. 
At the very outset we have the exclusion of the parallelism and the 
assertion of the interrelation. The interrelation, by its very nature, 
asserts the interruption of the causal necessity and the penetration 
of autonomous reason in this sequence, without being itself produced 
by this sequence, although it can be stimulated and helped or inhib- 
ited and weakened by it. Thus, in such a case as this, the irrational 
is recognized by the side of and in the rational. In this case the irra- 
tional of the event without causal compulsion by some antecedent, 
or of the self-determination by the autonomous idea alone, is the irra- 
tional of freedom. It is the irrational of the creative procedure 


which constitutes the idea out of itself and produces the consequences 
of the reason out of the constituted idea. But this irrational plays 
everywhere in the whole life of the soul an essential part, and is not 
less than decisive in the case of religion, which must be quite differ- 
ent from what it is if it did not have the right to maintain that 
which it declares to be true of itself, namely, that it is an act of 
freedom and a gift of grace, an effect of the supersensuous permeating 
the natural phenomenal life of the soul and an act of free devotion 
the natural motivation. 

The fourth problem arises, when we examine the rational law of 
the religious nature or of the having of religion which lies in the 
being and organization of the reason. The having of religion may be 
demonstrated as a law of the normal consciousness from the immanent 
feeling of necessity and obligation which properly belongs to religion, 
and from its organic place in the economy of consciousness, which 
receives its concentration and its relation to an objective world- 
reason only from religion. But precisely because religion is reduced 
to this, it is clear that this is only a reduction which abstracts from 
the empirical actuality just as the categories of pure reason do. This 
abstraction, then, should under no circumstances itself be regarded 
as the real religion. It is only the rational a priori of the psychical 
appearances, but not the replacement of appearances by the truth 
free from confusion. The psychical reality in which alone the truth 
is effective should never be forgotten out of regard for the truth. 
This is, however, the fact in the Kantian theory of religion in two 

It is always noticeable that the a priori of the practical reason is 
treated by Kant quite differently from the theoretical. In case of 
the latter the main idea of the synthesis, immanent in experience, of 
rationalism and empiricism, is retained, and the a priori of the pure 
forms of intuition and of the pure categories is nothing without tin- 
contents of concrete reality which become shaped in it. It may be 
very difficult actually to grasp the cooperation of the a priori and 
the empirical in the single case, and Kant's theory of the categories 
may have to be entirely reshaped and approximated to a priori 
hypotheses requiring verification, but the principle itself is always 
the disposition of the real and genuine problem of all knowledge. In 
case of the practical a priori Kant did, it is true, firmly emphasize 
the formal character of the ethical, sesthetical, and religious law, 
but, in doing this, does not lose quite out of sight the psychical 
reality. They appear not as empty forms which attain to their 
reality only when filled with the concrete ethical tasks, the artistic 
creations, and the religious states, but as abstract truths of reason, 
which have to take the place of the intricacies of usual consciousness. 
A.t this point one has always been right in feeling a relapse on the 


part of Kant into the abstract, analytical, conceptual, rationalism, 
and for this very reason Kant's statements about these things are 
of great sublimity and rigor of principle, but scanty in content. It 
is more important in case also of this a priori of the practical reason 
to keep in mind that it is a purely formal a priori and in reality 
must constantly be in relation with the psychical content, in order 
to give this content the firm core of the real and the principle of 
the critical regulation of self. So the a priori of morals is not to 
be represented abstractly merely by itself, but it is to be con- 
ceived in its relation to all the tasks which we feel as obligatory, and 
it extends itself from that point outwards over the total, expanse of 
the activity of reason. Likewise the a priori of art is not to be 
denoted in the abstract idea of the unity of freedom and necessity, 
but to be shown in the whole expanse which is present to the soul as 
artistic form or conception. Thus, in especial degree, religion is not 
to be reduced to the belief of reason in a moral world-order, and 
simply contrasted with all supposed religion of any other kind, but 
the religious a priori should only serve in order to establish the 
essential in the empirical appearance, but without stripping off this 
appearance altogether, and from this point of the essential to correct 
the intricacies and narrowness, the errors and false combinations of 
the psychical situation. Kant, by his original thought of the a priori, 
was urged in different ways to such a view, and construed epistemo- 
logically the empirical psychological religion as imaginary illustra- 
tions of the a priori. But that is occasional only and does not 
dominate Kant's real view of religion. This is and still remains only a 
translation of the usual moral and theological rationalism from the 
formula of Locke and Wolff into the formula of the critical philosophy. 
The same revision occurs in quite a different direction. If religion 
is an a priori of reason, it is, once for all, established together with 
reason, and all religion is everywhere and always religious in the same 
proposition as it is in any way realized. Schleiermacher expressly 
stated this in his development of the Kantian theory, and, in so far 
as the practical reason is always penetrated with freedom, and con- 
sequently religion itself is established with the act of moral freedom, 
this was also asserted by Kant himself. Such an assertion, however, 
contradicts every psychological observation whatsoever. It is true 
such observation can prove that religious emotions adjust them- 
selves easily to all activities of reason, but it must sharply distin- 
guish what is nothing more than the religiousness of vague feeling 
of supersensual regulations, which usually are joined with art and 
morals, from real and characteristic religiousness, in which, each 
single time, a purely personal relation of presence to the super- 
sensuous takes place. But this whole problem signifies nothing else 
than the actualizing of the religious a priori, which actualizing 


always occurs in quite specific and, in spite of all difference, essen- 
tially similar psychical experiences and states. This problem of the 
actualizing of the religious a priori and of its connection with con- 
crete individual psychical phenomena, Kant completely overlooked 
in his abstract concept of religion, or rather, deliberately ignored, 
because, as he wrote to Jacobi, he saw all the dangers of mysticism 
lurking in it. This fear was justified; for, as a matter of fact, all the 
specific occurrences of mysticism, from conversion, prayer, and con- 
templation to enthusiasm, vision, and ecstasy, do lurk in it. But 
without this mysticism there is no real religion, and the psychology 
of religion shows most clearly how the real pulse of religion beats in 
the mystical experiences. A religion without it is only a preliminary 
step, or a reverberation of real and actual religion. Moreover, the 
states are easily conceived in a theory of knowledge, if one sees in 
them the actualizing of the religious a priori, the production of 
actual religion in the fusion of the rational law with the concrete 
individual psychical fact. The mysticism recognized as essential by 
the psychology of religion must find its place in the theory of know- 
ledge, and it finds it as the psychological actualizing of the religious 
a priori, in which alone that interlacing of the necessary, the rational, 
the conformable to law r , and the factual occurs, which characterizes 
real religion. The dangers of such a mysticism, which are recognized 
a thousandfold in experience, cannot be dispelled altogether by the 
displacement of mysticism, for that would mean to displace religion 
itself. It would be the same, if one should try to avoid the dangers 
of illusion and error, by keeping to the pure categories alone, and 
ceasing to employ them in the actual thinking of experience. Rather, 
they can be dispelled only in that the actualizing of the rational 
a priori is recognized in the mystical occurrences, and thus the 
intricacies and one-sidedness of the mere psychological stream of 
religiousness be avoided. The psychological reality of religion must 
always remember the rational substance of religion, and always bring 
religion as central in the system of consciousness into fruitful and 
adjusted contact with the total life of the reason. Thus the psycho- 
logical reality corrects and purifies itself out of its own a priori, with- 
out, however, destroying itself; or rather, the actual religion in the 
psychical category of the mystical occurrences will subside to a more 
or less degree. Thus we have the irrational prevailing here in its third 
form; which like the two others was contained in the very outset of 
the critical system, in the form of the once-occurring, factual, and 
individual, which, of course, has a rational basis or a rational element 
in itself, but is besides a pure fact and reality. Just this is the 
excellence of the rationalism immanent in experience (the critical 
system), that it makes room for this feature beside the general and 
conceptual rationality. It did not make room for it to the extent 


really required, and it especially left no space for it in its abstract 
philosophy of religion. This space must again be opened by the 
theory of the actualizing of the religious a priori, and there again 
lies another improvement of the critical system under the influence of 
modern psychology. 

If we summarize all this, we have a quantity of concessions by the 
formal epistemological rationalism to the irrationality of the psycho- 
logical facts and a repeated breaking down of the over-rigorous 
Kantian rationalism. Contrariwise, however, the pure ps} r chological 
investigation is also compelled to withdraw from the unlimited 
quantity and the absolute irrationality of the multifarious (and of 
the confusion of appearance and truth) to a rational criterium, 
which can be found in the rational a priori of the reason only, and in 
the organic position of this a priori in the system of consciousness in 
general. By this rationalism alone may the true validity of religion 
be founded, and by this alone the uncultivated psychical life may 
be critically regulated. Religion will be conceived in its concrete 
vitality and not mutilated; it will constantly be brought out of the 
jumble of its distortions, blendings, one-sidedness, narrowness, and 
exuberance back again to its original content, and to its organic 
relations to the totality of the life of reason, to the scientific moral 
and artistic accomplishments. That is everything that science can 
do for it, but is not this service great enough and indispensable 
enough to justify the work of such a science? We do not stop with 
nothing more than "varieties of religious experience" which is the 
result of James's method; but neither do we stop with nothing more 
than a rational idea of religion, which overpowers experience, as was 
still so in the case of Kant. But we must learn how intimately to 
combine the empirical and psychological with the critical and norma- 
tive. The ideas of Hume and of Leibnitz must once more be brought 
into relation with the continuations of Kant's work, and the com- 
bination of the Anglo-Saxon sense for reality with the German 
spirit of speculation is still the task for the new century as well as 
for the century past. 


A short paper was contributed to this Section by Professor Alexander T. 
Ormond, of Princeton University, on "Some Roots and Factors of Religion." 
The speaker said that religion, like everything else human, has its rise in man's 
experience. It has also doubtless had a history that will present the outlines of 
a development, if but the course of that development can be traced. " But in the 
case of religion our theory of development will be largely qualified by our judg- 
ment as to its origin; while, regarding origin itself, we have to depend on hypo- 
theses constructed from our more or less imperfect acquaintance with the races, 
and especially the savage races, of the present. The primitive pre-religious man 
is a construction from present data, and will always remain more or less hypo- 
thetical. This will partially explain, and at the same time partially excuse, what 
we will agree is the unsatisfactory character of the anthropological theories as 
accounts of the origin of religion. But there are other reasons for this partial 
failure that are less excusable. One of these is the rather singular failure of the 
leading anthropologists, in dealing with the origin of religion, to distinguish 
between fundamental and merely tributary causes. For instance, if we suppose 
that man has in some way come into possession of a germ of religiousness, many 
things will become genuine tributaries to its development that when urged as 
explanations of the germ itself would be obviously futile. There must be a cause 
for the pretty general failure to note this distinction which is vital to religious 
theory, and I am convinced that the principal cause is a certain lack of psycho- 
logical insight and of philosophical grasp in dealing with the problem of the first 
data and primary roots of religion in man's nature. 

"In the first place, it is needful in dealing with the religion of the hypothetical 
man that we should have some idea of what constitutes religion in the actual 
man. Now, back of all the outward manifestations of religion, will stand the 
religious consciousness of the man and the community, and it will be this that will 
determine the idea of religion in its most essential form. The developed idea 
of religion, therefore, arising out of this germinal impression, would take the form 
of a sense (we may now call it concept) of relatedness to some being akin to man 
himself, and yet transcending him in some real though undetermined respects. 
Anything short of this would, I think, leave religion in some respects unaccounted 
for; while anything more would perhaps exclude some genuine manifestations of 

" If the idea of religion arises out of an impression, then it will not be possible 
to deny to it an intellectual root. I make this statement with some diffidence, 
because if I do not misinterpret them, some recent psychologists have practically 
denied the intellectual root in their doctrine that religion can have no orig- 
inal intellectual content. If I am not further misled, however, these writers 
would admit that a content is achieved by the symbolic use of experience. This 
is perhaps all I need argue for here; since our epistemology is teaching us 
that the distinction between symbolism and perception is only that between the 
direct and the indirect; while here it is clear that its use in developing the signi- 
ficance of the religious impression would have all the directness and, therefore, all 
the cogency of an immediate inference. 

" Let us now restore the intellectual and emotional elements of religion to their 
place in a synthesis; we will then have a concrete religious experience out of 
which may be analyzed at least two fundamental factors. The first of these is 
what we may call the personal factor in religion. We are treading in the foot- 


steps of the anthropologists when we find among the most undeveloped savages 
a tendency to personify the objects of their worship. When it comes to the ques- 
tion of determining the role that this personalizing tendency has actually 
played in the development of religion, the anthropologists divide into two 
camps, one of these, led by Max Miiller, regarding it as a symbolic interpretation 
put upon the impression of some great natural or cosmic object or phenomenon; 
while others, including Herbert Spencer and Mr. Tylor, prefer to seek the originals 
of religion in ancestral dream-images and ghostly apparitions. These writers 
thus start with completely anthropomorphic terms, and their problem is to 
de-anthropomorphize the elements to the extent necessary to constitute them data 
of religion. The second factor standing over against the personal, as its opposite, 
is that of transcendence. By transcendence I mean that deifying, infinitating 
process that is ever working contra to the anthropomorphic influence in the 
sphere of religious conceptions. The School of Spencer regard this as the only 
legitimate tendency in religion. We do not argue this point here, but agree that 
it is as legitimate and real a factor as that of personality. The root of this factor, 
if our diagnosis of the idea of religion be correct, is to be sought in the original 
impression of religion, and it no doubt has its origin in man's feeling-reaction 
from that impression. We have pointed to submission as one of the religious 
emotions. Now submission rests on some deeper feeling-attitude, which some 
have translated into the feeling or sense of dependence. This, however, is not 
adequate, since men have the sense of social dependence on finite beings, and we 
have it with reference to the floor we are standing on. Rather, it seems to me, 
we must translate it into the stronger and more unconditional feeling of help- 
lessness. One real ground of our religious consciousness is the sense or feeling of 
helplessness toward God; the sense that we have no standing in being as against 
the Deity. This radical feeling utters itself in every note of the religious scale, 
from the lowest superstitious terror to the highest mystical self-annihilation. 

'These two factors, the forces of personalization and transcendence, are in- 
separable. They constitute the terms of a dialectic within the religious con- 
sciousness by virtue of which in one phase our religious conceptions are becoming 
ever more adequate and satisfying, while from another point of view their in- 
sufficiency grows more and more apparent. And, on the broader field of religious 
history, they embody themselves in a law of tendency, which Spencer has only 
half -expressed, by virtue of which the objects of religion are on one hand becoming 
ever more intelligible; on the other, ever more transcendent of our conceptions." 

A short paper was read by Professor F. C. French, Professor of Philosophy in 
the University of Nebraska, on "The Bearing of Certain Aspects of the Newer 
Psychology on the Philosophy of Religion." The speaker said in part: 

"The relation of science to religion has received, to be sure, much study, but 
to most minds hitherto this has meant the relation of only the physical sciences to 
religion. The older psychology was largely speculative and metaphysical in 
character. There were, of course, some who employed the empirical method in 
psychology, but they were so far from comprehending the full scope of mental 
phenomena that, at best, their work gave the promise of a science rather than 
a science itself. 

It is not the fact that the newer psychology takes account of the physiological 
conditions of mental life; it is not the fact that the subject is now pursued in 
laboratories with instruments of precision, that gives it its full standing as a 
science : it is much more the fact that the psychology of to-day has found a place 
in the natural system of mental things for those strange and relatively unusual 
phenomena of consciousness which to the scientifically minded seemed totally 
unreal and to the superstitious manifestations of the supernatural. . . . 


" In showing that the abnormal can be explained in terms of the normal, 
psychology does now for the phenomena of mind what the physical sciences 
have long done for the phenomena of nature. . . . 

" Psychology as a science postulates the reign of natural law in the subjective 
sphere just as rigorously as physics postulates the reign of law in the objective 
sphere. . . . 

"It is not in the unusual and the abnormal that the reflective mind is to si < 
God. It is not through gaps in nature that we are to get glimpses of the super- 
natural. Rather is it in the very nature of nature, rational, harmonious, law- 
conforming, subject to scientific interpretation, that we have the best evidence 
that the world is made mind-wise, that it is the work of an intelligent mind, that 
there is a rational spirit at the core of the universe. 

" For science the transcendent does not enter into the perceptual realm external 
or internal. It is, indeed, hard for the religious mind to admit this fact in all 
its fullness. Until it does, however, religion must always stand more or less in 
fear of science. Once give up the perceptual, in all its bearings, to science, and 
religion will find that it has lost a weak support only to gain a stronger one. 
Ultimately, I believe, we shall find that the full acceptance of science in the mental 
domain as well as in the physical will strengthen the rational grounds of theistic 



(Hall 6, September 22, 10 a. TO.) 


SECRETARY: DR. W. H. SHELDON, Columbia University. 

THE Chairman of this Section, Professor George M. Duncan, Pro- 
fessor of Logic and Mathematics at Yale University, in introducing 
the speakers spoke briefly of the scope and importance of the sub- 
ject assigned to the Section; expressed, on behalf of those in attend- 
ance, regret at the inability of Professor Wilhelm Windelband to 
be present and take part in the work of the Section, as had been 
expected; congratulated the Section on the papers to be presented 
and the speakers who were to present them; and announced the 
final programme of the Section. 



[William Alexander Hammond, Assistant Professor of Ancient and Medieval 
Philosophy and ^Esthetics, Cornell University, b. May 20, 1861, New Ath- 
ens, Ohio. A.B. Harvard, 1885; Ph.D. Leipzig, 1891. Lecturer on Classics, 
King's College, Windsor, N. S., 1885-88; Secretary of the University Fac- 
ulty, Cornell; Member American Psychological Association, American 
Philosophical Association. Author of The Characters of Theophrastus, 
translated with Introduction ; Aristotle's Psychology, translated with Intro- 

IN 1787, in the preface to the second edition of the Kr. d. r. V., Kant 
wrote the following words: "That logic, from the earliest times, 
has followed that secure method " (namely, the secure method of a 
science witnessed by the unanimity of its workers and the stability 
of its results) " may be seen from the fact that since Aristotle it has 
not had to retrace a single step, unless we choose to consider as 
improvements the removal of some unnecessary subtleties, or the 
clearer definition of its matter, both of which refer to the elegance 
rather than to the solidity of the science. It is remarkable, also, that 
to the present day, it has not been able to make one step in advance, 
so that to all appearances it may be considered as completed and 
perfect. If some modern philosophers thought to enlarge it, by 
introducing psychological chapters on the different faculties of 
knowledge (faculty of imagination, wit, etc.), or metaphysical chapters 
on the origin of knowledge or different degrees of certainty accord- 
ing to the difference of objects (idealism, skepticism, etc.), or, lastly, 
anthropological chapters on prejudices, their causes and remedies, 
this could only arise from their ignorance of the peculiar nature of 
logical science. We do not enlarge, but we only disfigure the sciences, 
if we allow their respective limits to be confounded; and the limits 
of logic are definitely fixed by the fact that it is a science which has 
nothing to do but fully to exhibit and strictly to prove the formal 
rules of all thought (whether it be a priori or empirical, whatever be 
its origin or its object, and whatever be the impediments, accidental 
or natural, which it has to encounter in the human mind). " [Trans- 
lated by Max Miiller.] Scarcely more than half a century after the 
publication of this statement of Kant's, John Stuart Mill (Intro- 
duction to System of Logic) wrote: "There is as great diversity 
among authors in the modes which they have adopted of defining 
logic, as in their treatment of the details of it. This is what 
might naturally be expected on any subject on which writers have 
availed themselves of the same language as a means of delivering 
different ideas. . . . This diversity is not so much an evil to be 


complained of, as an inevitable, and in some degree a proper result 
of the imperfect state of those sciences " (that is, of logic, jurispru- 
dence, and ethics). "It is not to be expected that there should be 
agreement about the definition of anything, until there is agree- 
ment about the thing itself." This remarkable disparity of opinion 
is due partly to the changes in the treatment of logic from Kant to 
Mill, and partly to the fact that both statements are extreme. That 
the science of logic was "completed and perfect" in the time of 
Kant could only with any degree of accuracy be said of the treat- 
ment of syllogistic proof or the deductive logic of Aristotle. That 
the diversity was so great as pictured by Mill is not historically 
exact, but could be said only of the new epistemological and psycho- 
logical treatment of logic and not of the traditional formal logic. 
The confusion in logic is no doubt largely due to disagreement in 
the delimitation of its proper territory and to the consequent variety 
of opinions as to its relations to other disciplines. The rise of induct- 
ive logic, coincident with the rise and growth of physical science 
and empiricism, forced the consideration of the question as to the 
relation of formal thought to reality, and the consequent entangle- 
ment of logic in a triple alliance of logic, psychology, and meta- 
physics. How logic can maintain friendly relations with both of 
these and yet avoid endangering its territorial integrity has not been 
made clear by logicians or psychologists or metaphysicians, and 
that, too, in spite of persistent attempts justly to settle the issue as 
to their respective spheres of influence. Until modern logic definitely 
settles the question of its aims and legitimate problems, it is difficult 
to see how any agreement can be reached as to its relation to the 
other disciplines. The situation as it confronts one in the discus- 
sion of the relations of logic to allied subjects may be analyzed as 
follows : 

1. The relation of logic as science to logic as art. 

2. The relation of logic to psychology. 

3. The relation of logic to metaphysics. 

The development of nineteenth century logic has made an answer to 
the last two of the foregoing problems exceedingly difficult. Indeed, 
one may say that the evolution of modern epistemology has had a 
centrifugal influence on logic, and instead of growth towards unity 
of conception we have a chaos of diverse and discordant theories. 
The apple of discord has been the theory of knowledge. A score of 
years ago when Adamson wrote his admirable article in the Ency- 
clopcedia Britannica (article "Logic," 1882), he found the conditions 
much the same as I now find them. " Looking to the chaotic state of 
logical text-books at the present time, one would be inclined to say 
that there does not exist anywhere a recognized currently received 
body of speculations to which the title logic can be unambiguously 

298 LOGIC 

assigned, and that we must therefore resign the hope of attaining 
by any empirical consideration of the received doctrine a precise 
determination of the nature and limits of logical theory." I do not, 
however, take quite so despondent a view of the logical chaos as 
the late Professor Adamson; rather, I believe with Professor Stratton 
(Psy. Rev. vol. in) that something is to be gained for unity and 
consistency by more exact delimitation of the subject-matter of 
the philosophical disciplines and their interrelations, which pre- 
cision, if secured, would assist in bringing into clear relief the real 
problems of the several departments of inquiry, and facilitate the 
proper classification of the disciplines themselves. 

The attempt to delimit the spheres of the disciplines, to state their 
interrelations and classify them, was made early in the history of 
philosophy, at the very beginning of the development of logic as 
a science by Aristotle. In Plato's philosophy, logic is not separated 
from epistemology and metaphysics. The key to his metaphysics is 
given essentially in his theory of the reality of the concept, which 
offers an interesting analogy to the position of logic in modern 
idealism. Before Plato there was no formulation of logical theory, 
and in his dialogues it is only contained in solution. The nearest 
approach to any formulation is to be found in an applied logic set 
forth in the precepts and rules of the rhetoricians and sophists. 
Properly speaking, Aristotle made the first attempt to define the 
subject of logic and to determine its relations to the other sciences. 
In a certain sense logic for Aristotle is not a science at all. For 
science is concerned with some ens, some branch of reality, while 
logic is concerned with the methodology of knowing, with the 
formal processes of thought whereby an ens or a reality is ascertained 
and appropriated to knowledge. In the sense of a method whereby 
all scientific knowledge is secured, logic is a propaedeutic to the 
sciences. In the idealism of the Eleatics and Plato, thought and being 
are ultimately identical, and the laws of thought are the laws of 
being. In Aristotle's conception, while the processes of thought 
furnish a knowledge of reality or being, their formal operation con- 
stitutes the technique of investigation, and their systematic explana- 
tion and description constitute logic. Logic and metaphysics are dis- 
tinguished as the science of being and the doctrine of the thought- 
processes whereby being is known. Logic is the doctrine of the 
organon of science, and when applied is the organon of science. The 
logic of Aristotle is not a purely formal logic. He is not interested in 
the merely schematic character of the thought-processes, but in 
their function as mediators of apodictic truth. He begins with the 
assumption that in the conjunction and disjunction of correctly 
formed judgments the conjunction or disjunction of reality is mir- 
rored. Aristotle does not here examine into the powers of the mind 


as a whole; that is done, though fragmentarily, in the De Anima and 
Parva Naturalia, where the mental powers are regarded as phases of 
the processes of nature without reference to normation ; but in his logic 
he inquires only into those forms and laws of thinking which mediate 
proof. Scientific proof, in his conception, is furnished in the form of 
the syllogism, whose component elements are terms and propositions. 
In the little tract On Interpretation (i. e. on the judgment as inter- 
preter of thought), if it is genuine, the proposition is considered in 
its logical bearing. The treatise on the Categories, which discusses 
the nature of the most general terms, forms a connecting link be- 
tween logic and metaphysics. The categories are the most general 
concepts or universal modes under which we have knowledge of 
the world. They are not simply logical relations; they are existential 
forms, being not only the modes under which thought regards being, 
but the modes under which being exists. Aristotle's theory of the 
methodology of science is intimately connected with his view of 
knowledge. Scientific knowledge in his opinion refers to the essence 
of things; for example, to those universal aspects of reality which 
are given in particulars, but which remain self-identical amidst the 
variation and passing of particulars. The universal, however, is 
known only through and after particulars. There is no such thing 
as innate knowledge or Platonic reminiscence. Knowledge, if not 
entirely empirical, has its basis in empirical reality. Causes are 
known only through effects. The universals have no existence apart 
from things, although they exist realiter in things. Empirical know- 
ledge of particulars must, therefore, precede in time the conceptual 
or scientific knowledge of universals. In the evolution of scientific 
knowledge in the individual mind, the body of particulars or of 
sense-experience is to its conceptual transformation as potentiality 
is to actuality, matter to form, the completed end of the former 
being realized in the latter. Only in the sense of this power to trans- 
form and conceptualize, does the mind have knowledge within itself. 
The genetic content is experiential; the developed concept, judg- 
ment, or inference is in form noetic. Knowledge is, therefore, not 
a mere "precipitate of experience," nor is Aristotle a complete 
empiricist. The conceptual form of knowledge is not immediately 
given in things experienced, but is a product of noetic discrimination 
and combination. Of a sensible object as such there is no concept; 
the object of a concept is the generic essence of a thing; and the 
concept itself is the thought of this generic essence. The individual 
is generalized; every concept does or can embrace several individuals. 
It is an " aggregate of distinguishing marks, " and is expressed in a 
definition. The concept as such is neither true nor false. Truth first 
arises in the form of a judgment or proposition, wherein a subject 
is coupled with a predicate, and something is said about something. 

300 LOGIC 

A judgment is true when the thought (whose inward process is the 
judgment and the expression in vocal symbols is the proposition) 
regards as conjoined or divided that which is conjoined or divided 
in actuality; in other words, when the thought is congruous with 
the real. While Aristotle does not ignore induction as a scientific 
method, (how could he when he regards the self-subsistent individual 
as the only real?) yet he says that, as a method, it labors under 
the defect of being only proximate; a complete induction from all 
particulars is not possible, and therefore cannot furnish demonstra- 
tion. Only the deductive process proceeding syllogistically from 
the universal (or essential truth) to the particular is scientifically 
cogent or apodictic. Consequently Aristotle developed the science 
of logic mainly as a syllogistic technique or instrument of demon- 
stration. From this brief sketch of Aristotle's logical views it will 
be seen that the epistemological and metaphysical relations of 
logic which involve its greatest difficulty and cause the greatest 
diversity in its modern exponents, were present in undeveloped 
form to the mind of the first logician. It would require a mighty 
optimism to suppose that this difficulty and diversity, which has 
increased rather than diminished in the progress of historical philo- 
sophy, should suddenly be made to vanish by some magic of re- 
statement of subject-matter, or theoretical delimitation of the 
discipline. As Fichte said of philosophy, " The sort of a philosophy 
that a man has, depends on the kind of man he is; " so one might 
almost say of logic, " The sort of logic that a man has, depends on 
the kind of philosopher he is." If the blight of discord is ever re- 
moved from epistemology, we may expect agreement as to the rela- 
tions of logic to metaphysics. Meanwhile logic has the great body 
of scientific results deposited in the physical sciences on which to 
build and test, with some assurance, its doctrine of methodology; 
and as philosophy moves forward persistently to the final solution 
of its problems, logic may justly expect to be a beneficiary in its 
established theories. 

After Aristotle's death logic lapsed into a formalism more and 
more removed from any vital connection with reality and oblivious 
to the profound epistemological and methodological questions that 
Aristotle had at least raised. In the Middle Ages it became a highly 
developed exercise in inference applied to the traditional dogmas of 
theology and science as premises, with mainly apologetic or polemi- 
cal functions. Its chief importance is found in its application to the 
problem of realism and nominalism, the question as to the nature of 
universals. At the height of scholasticism realism gained its victory 
by syllogistically showing the congruity of its premises with certain 
fundamental dogmas of the Church, especially with the dogma of the 
unity and reality of the Godhead. The heretical conclusion involved 


in nominalism is equivalent (the accepted dogma of the Church be- 
ing axiomatic) to reductio ad absurdum. A use of logic such as this, 
tending to conserve rather than to increase the body of knowledge, 
was bound to meet with attack on the awakening of post-renaissance 
interest in the physical world, and the acquirement of a body of truth 
to which the scholastic formal logic had no relation. The anti-scholas- 
tic movement in logic was inaugurated by Francis Bacon, who 
sought in his Novum Organum to give science a real content through 
the application of induction to experience and the discovery of 
universal truths from particular instances. The syllogism is rejected 
as a scientific instrument, because it does not lead to principles, but 
proceeds only from principles, and is therefore not useful for dis- 
covery. It permits at most only refinements on knowledge already 
possessed, but cannot be regarded as creative or productive. The 
Baconian theory of induction regarded the accumulation of facts 
and the derivation of general principles and laws from them as the 
true and fruitful method of science. In England this empirical view 
of logic has been altogether dominant, and the most illustrious Eng- 
lish exponents of logical theory, Herschel, Whewell, and Mill, 
have stood on that ground. Since the introduction of German 
idealism in the last half century a new logic has grown up whose 
chief business is with the theory of knowledge. 

Kant's departure in logic is based on an epistemological examin- 
ation of the nature of judgment, and on the answer to his own 
question, "How are synthetic judgments a priori possible?" The 
a priori elements in knowledge make knowledge of the real nature of 
things impossible. Human knowledge extends to the phenomenal 
world, which is seen under the a priori forms of the understanding. 
Logic for Kant is the science of the formal and necessary laws of 
thought, apart from any reference to objects. Pure or universal 
logic aims to understand the forms of thought without regard to meta- 
physical or psychological relations, and this position of Kant is the 
historical beginning of the subjective formal logic. 

In the metaphysical logic of Hegel, which rests on a panlogistic 
basis, being and thought, form and content, are identical. Logical 
necessity is the measure and criterion of objective reality. The body 
of reality is developed through the dialectic self-movement of the 
idea. In such an idealistic monism, formal and real logic are by the 
metaphysical postulate coincident. 

Schleiermacher in his dialectic regards logic from the standpoint 
of epistemological realism, in which the real deliverances of the 
senses are conceptually transformed by the spontaneous activity 
of reason. This spirit of realism is similar to that of Aristotle, in which 
the one-sided a priori view of knowledge is controverted. Space and 
time are forms of the existence of things, and not merely a priori 

302 LOGIC 

forms of knowing. Logic he divides into dialectic and technical 
logic. The former regards the idea of knowledge as such; the formal 
or technical regards knowledge in the process of becoming or the 
idea of knowledge in motion. The forms of this process are induction 
and deduction. The Hegelian theory of the generation of knowledge 
out of the processes of pure thought is emphatically rejected. 

Lotze, who is undoubtedly one of the most influential and fruitful 
writers on logic in the last century, attempts to bring logic into 
closer relations with contemporary science, and is an antagonist of 
one-sided formal logics. For him logic falls into the three parts of 
(1) pure logic or the logic of thought; (2) applied logic or the logic 
of investigation; (3) the logic of knowledge or methodology; and this 
classification of the matter and problems of logic has had an im- 
portant influence on subsequent treatises on the discipline. His 
logic is formal, as he describes it himself, in the sense of setting forth 
the modes of the operation of thought and its logical structure; it is 
real in the sense that these forms are dependent on the nature of 
things and not something independently given in the mind. While 
he aims to maintain the distinct separation of logic and metaphysics, 
he says (in the discussion of the relations between formal and real 
logical meaning) the question of meaning naturally raises a meta- 
physical problem: " Ich thue besser der Metaphysik die weitere 
Erorterung dieses wichtigen Punktes zu iiberlassen." (Log. 2d ed. 
p. 571.) How could it be otherwise when his whole view of the rela- 
tions and validity of knowledge is inseparable from his realism or 
teleological idealism, as he himself characterizes his own standpoint? 

Drobisch, a follower of Herbart, is one of the most thoroughgoing 
formalists in modern logical theory. He attempts to maintain strictly 
the distinction between thought and knowledge. Logic is the science 
of thought. He holds that there may be formal truth, for example, 
logically valid truth, which is materially false. Logic, in other words, 
is purely formal; material truth is matter for metaphysics or science. 
Drobisch holds, therefore, that the falsity of the judgment expressed 
in the premise from which a formally correct syllogism may be deduced, 
is not subject-matter for logic. The sphere of logic is limited to the 
region of inference and forms of procedure, his view of the nature 
and function of logic being determined largely by the bias of his 
mathematical standpoint. The congruity of thought with itself, 
judgments, conclusions, analyses, etc., is the sole logical truth, as 
against Trendelenburg, who took the Aristotelian position that log- 
ical truth is the "agreement of thought with the object of thought." 

Sigwart looks at logic mainly from the standpoint of the tech- 
nology of science, in which, however, he discovers the implications 
of a teleological metaphysic. Between the processes of conscious- 
ness and external changes he finds a causal relation and not parallel- 


ism. Inasmuch as thought sometimes misses its aim, as is shown 
by the fact that error and dispute exist, there is need of a discipline 
whose purpose is to show us how to attain and establish truth and 
avoid error. This is the practical aim of logic, as distinguished from 
the psychological treatment of thought, where the distinction between 
true and false has no more place than the distinction between good 
and bad. Logic presupposes the impulse to discover truth, and it 
therefore sets forth the criteria of true thinking, and endeavors 
to describe those normative operations whose aim is validity of 
judgment. Consequently logic falls into the two parts of (1) critical, 
(2) technical, the former having meaning only in reference to the 
latter; the main value of logic is to be sought in its function as art. 
" Methodology, therefore, which is generally made to take a subor- 
dinate place, should be regarded as the special, final, and chief aim of 
our science." (Logic, vol. i, p. 21, Eng. Tr.) As an art, logic under- 
takes to determine under what conditions and prescriptions judgments 
are valid, but does not undertake to pass upon the validity of the con- 
tent of given judgments. Its prescriptions have regard only to formal 
correctness and not to the material truth of results. Logic is, there- 
fore, a formal discipline. Its business is with the due procedure of 
thought, and it attempts to show no more than how we may advance 
in the reasoning process in such way that each step is valid and 
necessary. If logic were to tell us what to think or give us the con- 
tent of thought, it would be commensurate with the whole of science. 
Sigwart, however, does not mean by formal thought independence of 
content, for it is not possible to disregard the particular manner in 
which the materials and content of thought are delivered through 
sensation and formed into ideas. Further, logic having for its chief 
business the methodology of science, the development of knowledge 
from empirical data, it ought to include a theory of knowledge, but 
it should not so far depart from its subjective limits as to include 
within its province the discussion of metaphysical implications or 
a theory of being. For this reason, Sigwart relegates to a postscript 
his discussion of teleology, but he gives an elaborate treatment of 
epistemology extending through vol. i and develops his account of 
methodology in vol. n. The question regarding the relation between 
necessity, the element in which logical thought moves, and freedom, 
the postulate of the will, carries one beyond the confines of logic and 
is, in his opinion, the profoundest problem of metaphysics, whose 
function is to deal with the ultimate relation between "subject 
and object, the world and the individual, and this is not only basal 
for logic and all science, but is the crown and end of them all." 

Wundt's psychological and methodological treatment of logic 
stands midway between the purely formal treatises on the one hand , 
and the metaphysical treatises on the other hand. The general 

304 LOGIC 

standpoint of Wundt is similar to that of Sigwart, in that he dis- 
covers the function of logic in the exposition of the formation and 
methods of scientific knowledge; for example, in epistemology and 
methodology. Logic must conform to the conditions under which 
scientific inquiry is actually carried on; the forms of thought, 
therefore, cannot be separate from or indifferent to the content of 
knowledge; for it is a fundamental principle of science that its 
particular methods are determined by the nature of its particular 
subject-matter. Scientific logic must reject the theory that identifies 
thought and being (Hegel) and the theory of parallelism between 
thought and reality (Schleiermacher, Trendelenburg, and Ueberweg), 
in which the ultimate identity of the two is only concealed. Both 
of these theories base logic on a metaphysics, which makes it nec- 
essary to construe the real in terms of thought, and logic, so di- 
vorced from empirical reality, is powerless to explain the methods of 
scientific procedure. One cannot, however, avoid the acceptance of 
thought as a competent organ for the interpretation of reality, unless 
one abandons all question of validity and accepts agnosticism or 
skepticism. This interpretative power of thought or congruity with 
reality is translated by metaphysical logic into identity. Metaphysical 
logic concerns itself fundamentally with the content of knowledge, not 
with its evidential or formal logical aspects, but with being and the 
laws of being. It is the business of metaphysics to construct its 
notions and theories of reality out of the deliverances of the special 
sciences and inferences derived therefrom. The aim of metaphysics 
is the development of a world-view free from internal contradictions, 
a view that shall unite all particular and plural knowledges into a 
whole. Logic stands in more intimate relation to the special sciences, 
for here the relations are reciprocal and immediate; for example, 
from actual scientific procedure logic abstracts its general laws and 
results, and these in turn it delivers to the sciences as their formu- 
lated methodology. In the history of science the winning of know- 
ledge precedes the formulation of the rules employed, that is, pre- 
cedes any scientific methodology. Logic, as methodology, is not an 
a priori construction, but has its genesis in the growth of science 
itself and in the discovery of those tests and criteria of truth which 
are found to possess an actual heuristic or evidential value. It is 
not practicable to separate epistemology and logic, for such con- 
cepts as causality, analogy, validity, etc., are fundamental in logical 
method, and yet they belong to the territory of epistemology, are 
epistemological in nature, as one may indeed say of all the general 
laws of thought. A formal logic that is merely propaedeutic , a logic that 
aims to free itself from the quarrels of epistemology, is scientifically 
useless. Its norms are valueless, in so far as they can only teach the 
arrangement of knowledge already possessed, and teach nothing as to 


how to secure it or test its real validity. While formal logic aims to 
put itself outside of philosophy, metaphysical logic would usurp 
the place of philosophy. Formal logic is inadequate, because it 
neither shows how the laws of thought originate, why they are 
valid, nor in what sense they are applicable to concrete investigation. 
Wundt, therefore, develops a logic which one may call epistemo- 
logical methodological, and which stands between the extremes of 
formal logic and metaphysical logic. The laws of logic must be 
derived from the processes of psychic experience and the procedure 
of the sciences. "Logic therefore needs," as he says, "epistemology 
for its foundation and the doctrine of methods for its completion." 

Lipps takes the view outright that logic is a branch of psychology; 
Husserl in his latest book goes to the other extreme of a purely 
formal and technical logic, and devotes almost his entire first volume 
to the complete sundering of psychology and logic. 

Bradley bases his logic on the theory of the judgment. The logical 
judgment is entirely different from the psychological. The logical 
judgment is a qualification of reality by means of an idea. The 
predicate is an adjective or attribute which in the judgment is 
ascribed to reality. The aim of truth is to qualify reality by general 
notions. But inasmuch as reality is individual and self-existent, 
whereas truth is universal, truth and reality are not coincident. 
Bradley 's metaphysical solution of the disparity between thought 
and reality is put forward in his theory of the unitary Absolute, 
whose concrete content is the totality of experience. But as thought 
is not the whole of experience, judgments cannot compass the whole 
of reality. Bosanquet objects to this, and maintains that reality must 
not be regarded as an ideal construction. The real world is the world to 
which our concepts and judgments refer. In the former we have a 
world of isolated individuals of definite content; in the latter, we have 
a world of definitely systematized and organized content. Under the 
title of the Morphology of Knowledge Bosanquet considers the evo- 
lution of judgment and inference in their varied forms. " Logic starts 
from the individual mind, as that within which we have the actual 
facts of intelligence, which we are attempting to interpret into a sys- 
tem " (Logic, vol. i, p. 247). The real world for every individual is his 
world. " The work of intellectually constituting that totality which 
we call the real world is the work of knowledge. The work of analyz- 
ing the process of this constitution or determination is the work of 
logic, which might be described ... as the reflection of knowledge 
upon itself " (Logic, vol. i, p. 3). " The relation of logic to truth con- 
sists in examining the characteristics by which the various phases 
of the one intellectual function are fitted for their place in the 
intellectual totality which constitutes knowledge " (ibid.). The real 
world is the intelligible world; reality is something to which we attain 

306 LOGIC 

by a constructive process. We have here a type of logic which is 
essentially a metaphysic. Indeed, Bosanquet says in the course of his 
first volume: "I entertain no doubt that in content logic is one with 
metaphysics, and differs, if at all, simply in mode of treatment --in 
tracing the evolution of knowledge in the light of its value and import, 
instead of attempting to summarize its value and import apart from 
the details of its evolution " (Logic, vol. i, 247). 

Dewey (Studies in Logical Theory, p. 5) describes the essential 
function of logic as the inquiry into the relations of thought as such 
to reality as such. Although such an inquiry may involve the investi- 
gation of psychological processes and of the concrete methods of 
science and verification, a description and analysis of the forms of 
thought, conception, judgment, and inference, yet its concern with 
these is subordinate to its main concern, namely, the relation of 
"thought at large to reality at large." Logic is not reflection on 
thought, either on its nature as such or on its forms, but on its relations 
to the real. In Dewey's philosophy, logical theory is a description of 
thought as a mode of adaptation to its own conditions, and validity 
is judged in terms of the efficiency of thought in the solution of its 
own problems and difficulties. The problem of logic is more than 
epistemological. Wherever there is striving there are obstacles ; and 
wherever there is thinking there is a " material-in-question." Dewey's 
logic is a theory of reflective experience regarded functionally, or 
a pragmatic view of the discipline. This logic of experience aims to 
evaluate the significance of social research, psychology, fine and in- 
dustrial art, and religious aspiration in the form of scientific statement, 
and to accomplish for social values in general what the physical 
sciences have done for the physical world. In Dewey's teleological 
pragmatic logic the judgment is essentially instrumental, the whole 
of thinking is functional, and the meaning of things is identical 
with valid meaning (Studies in Logical Theory, cf. pp. 48, 82, 128). 
The real world is not a self-existent world outside of knowledge, but 
simply the totality of experience; and experience is a complex of 
strains, tensions, checks, and attitudes. The function of logic is the 
redintegration of this experience. " Thinking is adaptation to an end 
through the adjustment of particular objective contents ' (ibid. 
p. 81). Logic here becomes a large part, if not the whole, of a meta- 
physics of experience; its nature and function are entirely determined 
by the theory of reality. 

In this brief and fragmentary resume are exhibited certain charac- 
teristic movements in the development of logical theory, the construc- 
tion put upon its subject-matter and its relation to other disciplines. 
The resume has had in view only the making of the diversity of 
opinion on these questions historically salient. There are three 
distinct types of logic noticed here: (1) formal, whose concern is 


merely with the structural aspect of inferential thought, and its 
validity in terms of internal congruity; (2) metaphysical logic whose 
concern is with the functional aspect of thought, its validity in 
terms of objective reference, and its relation to reality; (3) epi- 
stemological and methodological logic, whose concern is with the 
genesis, nature, and laws of logical thinking as forms of scientific 
knowledge, and with their technological application to the sciences 
as methodology. I am not at present concerned with a criticism 
of these various viewpoints, excepting in so far as they affect the 
problem of the interrelationship of logic and the allied disciplines. 

For my present purpose I reject the extreme metaphysical and 
formal positions, and assume that logic is a discipline \vhose busi- 
ness is to describe and systematize the formal processes of inferential 
thought and to apply them as practical principles to the body of 
real knowledge. 

I wish now to take up seriatim the several questions touching 
the various relations of logic enumerated above, and first of all the 
question of the relation of logic as science to logic as art. 

I. Logic as science and logic as art. 

It seems true that the founder of logic, Aristotle, regarded logic 
not as a science, but rather as propadeutic to science, and not as an 
end in itself, but rather technically and heuristically as an instrument. 
In other words, logic was conceived by him rather in its application 
or as an art, than as a science, and so it continued to be regarded 
until the close of the Middle Ages, being characterized indeed as the 
ars artium; for even the logica docens of the Scholastics was merely 
the formulation of that body of precepts which are of practical serv- 
ice in the syllogistic arrangement of premises, and the Port Royal 
Logic aims to furnish I'art de penser. This technical aspect of the 
science has clung to it down to the present day, and is no doubt 
a legitimate description of a part of its function. But no one would 
now say that logic is an art; rather it is a body of theory which 
may be technically applied. Mill, in his examination of Sir William 
Hamilton's Philosophy (p. 391), says of logic that it "is the art of 
thinking, which means of correct thinking, and the science of the 
conditions of correct thinking," and indeed, he goes so far as to say 
(System of Logic, Introd. 7) : " The extension of logic as a science 
is determined by its necessities as an art." Strictly speaking, logic 
as a science is purely theoretical, for the function of science as such 
is merely to know. It is an organized S3 r stem of knowledge, namely, 
an organized system of the principles and conditions of correct 
thinking. But because correct thinking is an art, it does not follow 
that a knowledge of the methods and conditions of correct thinking 

308 LOGIC 

is art, which would be a glaring case of //.era/focus ei's aAAo yeVos. The 
art-bearings of the science are given in the normative character of its 
subject-matter. As a science logic is descriptive and explanatory, that 
is, it describes and formulates the norms of valid thought, although 
as science it is not normative, save in the sense that the principles 
formulated in it may be normatively or regulatively applied, in 
which case they become precepts. What is principle in science 
becomes precept in application, and it is only when technically 
applied that principles assume a mandatory character. Validity is not 
created by logic. Logic merely investigates and states the conditions 
and criteria of validity, being in this reference a science of evidence. 
In the very fact, however, that logic is normative in the sense of 
describing and explaining the norms of correct thinking, its practical 
or applied character is given. Its principles as known are science; 
its principles as applied are art. There is, therefore, no reason to 
sunder these two things or to call logic an art merely or a science 
merely ; for it is both when regarded from different viewpoints, 
although one must insist on the fact that the rules for practical 
guidance are, so far as the science is concerned, quite ab extra. Logic, 
ethics, and aesthetics are all commonly (and rightly) called norm- 
ative disciplines: they are all concerned with values and standards; 
logic with validity and evidence, or values for cognition; ethics 
with motives and moral quality in conduct, or values for volition; 
aesthetics with the standards of beauty, or values for appreciation 
and feeling. Yet none of them is or can be merely normative, or 
indeed as science normative at all; if that were so, they would not 
be bodies of organized knowledge, but bodies of rules. They might 
be well-arranged codes of legislation on conduct, fine art, and evi- 
dence, but not sciences. Strictly regarded, it is the descriptive and 
explanatory aspect of logic that constitutes its scientific character, 
while it is the specific normative aspect that constitutes its logical 
character. Values, whether ethical or logical, without an examina- 
tion and formulation of their ground, relations, origin, and intercon- 
nection, would be merely rules of thumb, popular phrases, or pastoral 
precepts. The actual methodology of the sciences or applied logic 
is logic as art. 

II. Relation of logic to psychology. 

The differentiation of logic and psychology in such way as to be 
of practical value in the discussion of the disciplines has always been 
a difficult matter. John Stuart Mill was disposed to merge logic in 
psychology, and Hobhouse, his latest notable apologete, draws no 
fixed distinction between psychology and logic, merely saying that 
they have different centres of interest, and that their provinces 


overlap. Lipps, in his Grundzilge der Logik (p. 2), goes the length 
of saying that "Logic is a psychological discipline, as certainly as 
knowledge occurs only in the Psyche, and thought, which is developed 
in knowledge, is a psychical event." Now, if we were to take such 
extreme ground as this, then ethics, aesthetics, and pure mathe- 
matics would become at once branches of psychology and not coor- 
dinate disciplines with it, for volitions, the feelings of appreciation, 
and the reasoning of pure mathematics are psychical events. Such 
a theory plainly carries us too far and would involve us in confusion. 
That the demarcation between the two disciplines is not a chasmic 
cleavage, but a line, and that, too, an historically shifting line, is 
apparent from the foregoing historical resume. 

The four main phases of logical theory include: (1) the concept 
(although some logicians begin with the judgment as temporally 
prior in the evolution of language), (2) judgment, (3) inference, (4) the 
methodology of the sciences. The entire concern of logic is, indeed, 
with psychical processes, but with psychical processes regarded from 
a specific standpoint, a standpoint different from that of psychology. 
In the first place psychology in a certain sense is much wider than 
logic, being concerned with the whole of psychosis as such, including 
the feelings and will and the entire structure of cognition, whereas 
logic is concerned with the particular cognitive processes enumer- 
ated above (concept, judgment, inference), and that, too, merely 
from the point of view of validity and the grounds of validity. In 
another sense psychology is narrower than logic, being concerned 
purely with the description and explanation of a particular field of 
phenomena, whereas logic is concerned with the procedure of all the 
sciences and is practically related to them as their formulated 
method. The compass and aims of the two disciplines are different; 
for while psychology is in different references both wider and nar- 
rower than logic, it is also different in the problems it sets itself, 
its aim being to describe and explain the phenomena of mind in the 
spirit of empirical science, whereas the aim of logic is only to explain 
and establish the laws of evidence and standards of validity. Logic 
is, therefore, selective and particular in the treatment of mental 
phenomena, whereas psychology is universal, that is, it covers 
the entire range of mental processes as a phenomenalistic science; 
logic dealing with definite elements as a normative science. By this 
it is not meant that the territory of judgment and inference should 
be delivered from the psychologist into the care of the logician; 
through such a division of labor both disciplines would suffer. The 
two disciplines handle to some extent the same subjects, so far as 
names are concerned; but the essence of the logical problem is not 
touched by psychology, and should not be mixed up with it, to the 
confusion and detriment of both disciplines. The field of psychology, 

310 LOGIC 

as we have said, is the whole of psychical phenomena; the aim of 
individual psychology in the investigation of its field is: (1) to give 
a genetic account of cognition, feeling, and will, or whatever be the 
elements into which consciousness is analyzed; (2) to explain their 
interconnections causally; (3) as a chemistry of mental life to 
analyze its complexes into their simplest elements; (4) to explain the 
totality structurally (or functionally) out of the elements; (5) to 
carry on its investigation and set forth its results as a purely empir- 
ical science; (6) psychology makes no attempt to evaluate the 
processes of mind either in terms of false and true, or good and bad. 
From this description of the field and function of psychology, based 
on the expressions of its modern exponents, it will be found impossible 
to shelter logic under it as a subordinate discipline. If one were to 
enlarge the scope of psychology to mean rational psychology, in the 
sense which Professor Howison advocates (Psychological Review, 
vol. in, p. 652), such a subordination might be possible, but it would 
entail the loss of all that the new psychology has gained by the 
sharper delimitation of its sphere and problems, and would carry us 
back to the position of Mill, who appears to identify psychology 
with philosophy at large and with metaphysics. 

In contradistinction to the aims of psychology as described in 
the foregoing, the sphere and problems of logic may be summarily 
characterized as follows: (1) All concepts and judgments are psycho- 
logical complexes and processes and may be genetically and struc- 
turally described; that is the business of psychology. They also have 
a meaning value, or objective reference, that is, they may be correct 
or incorrect, congruous or incongruous with reality. The meaning, 
aspect of thought, or its content as truth is the business of logic. 
This subject-matter is got by regarding a single aspect in the 
total psychological complex. (2) Its aim is not to describe factual 
thought or the whole of thought, or the natural processes of thought, 
but only certain ideals of thinking, namely, the norms of correct 
thinking. Its object is not a datum, but an ideal. (3) While psycho- 
logy is concerned with the natural history of reasoning, logic is 
concerned with the warrants of inferential reasoning. In the term- 
inology of Hamilton it is the nomology of discursive thought. To 
use an often employed analogy, psychology is the physics of thought, 
logic an ethics of thought. (4) Logic implies an epistemology or 
theory of cognition in so far as epistemology discusses the concept 
and judgment and their relations to the real world, and here is to be 
found its closest connection with psychology. A purely formal logic, 
which is concerned merely with the internal order of knowledge and 
does not undertake to show how the laws of thought originate, why 
they hold good as the measures of evidence, or in what way they are 
applicable to concrete reality, would be as barren as scholasticism. 


(5) While logic thus goes back to epistemology for its bases and for 
the theoretical determination of the interrelation of knowledge and 
truth, it goes forward in its application to the practical service of the 
sciences as their methodology. A part of its subject-matter is therefore 
the actual procedure of the sciences, which it attempts to organize 
into systematic statements as principles and formulae. This body of 
rules given implicitly or explicitly in the workings and structure of 
the special sciences, consisting in classification, analysis, experiment, 
induction, deduction, nomenclature, etc., logic regards as a concrete 
deposit of inferential experience. It abstracts these principles from 
the content and method of the sciences, describes and explains them, 
erects them into a systematic methodology, and so creates the 
practical branch of real logic. Formal logic, therefore, according to 
the foregoing account, would embrace the questions of the internal 
congruity and self-consistency of thought and the schematic arrange- 
ment of judgments to insure formally valid conclusions; real logic 
would embrace the epistemological questions of how knowledge is 
related to reality, and how it is built up out of experience, on the 
one hand, and the methodological procedure of science, on the other. 
The importance of mathematical logic seems to be mainly in the 
facilitation of logical expression through symbols. It is rather with 
the machinery of the science than with its content and real problem 
that the logical algorithm or calculus is concerned. In these con- 
densed paragraphs sufficient has been said, I think, to show that logic 
and psychology should be regarded as coordinate disciplines; for their 
aims and subject-matter differ too widely to subordinate the former 
under the latter without confusion to both. 

I wish now to add a brief note on the relation of logic to another 

III. Relation of logic to metaphysics. 

As currently expounded, logic either abuts immediately on the 
territory of metaphysics at certain points or is entirely absorbed in it 
as an integral part of the metaphysical subject-matter. I regard the 
former view as not only the more tenable theoretically, but as 
practically advantageous for working purposes, and necessary for 
an intelligible classification of the philosophical disciplines. The 
business of metaphysics, as I understand it, is with the nature of 
reality; logic is concerned with the nature of validity, or with the 
relations of the elements of thought within themselves (self-consist- 
ency) and with the relations of thought to its object (real truth), but 
not with the nature of the objective world or reality as such. Further, 
metaphysics is concerned with the unification of the totality of 
knowledge in the form of a scientific cosmology; logic is concerned 

312 LOGIC 

merely with the inferential and methodological processes whereby 
this result is reached. The former is a science of content; the latter is 
a science of procedure and relations. Now, inasmuch as procedure 
and relations apply to some reality and differ with different forms of 
reality, logic necessitates in its implications a theory of being, but 
such implications are in no wise to be identified with its subject- 
matter or with its own proper problems. Their consideration falls 
within the sphere of metaphysics or a broadly conceived epistemo- 
logy, whose business it is to solve the ultimate questions of subject 
and object, thought and thing, mind and matter, that are implied 
and pointed to rather than formulated by logic. Inasmuch as the 
logical judgment says something about something, the scientific 
impulse drives us to investigate what the latter something ultimately 
is; but this is not necessary for logic, nor is it one of logic's legitimate 
problems, any more than it is the proper business of the physicist to 
investigate the mental implications of his scientific judgments and 
hypotheses or the ultimate nature of the theorizing and perceiving 
mind, or of causality to his world of matter and motion, although a 
general scientific interest may drive him to seek a solution of these 
ultimate metaphysical problems. Scientifically the end of logic and 
of every discipline is in itself; it is a territorial unity, and its govern- 
ment is administered with a unitary aim. Logic is purely a science 
of evidential values, not a science of content (in the meaning of 
particular reality, as in the special sciences, or of ultimate reality, 
as in metaphysics); its sole aim and purpose, as I conceive it, is to 
formulate the laws and grounds of evidence, the principles of method, 
and the conditions and forms of inferential thinking. When it has 
done this, it has, as a single science, done its whole work. When one 
looks at the present tendencies of logical theory, one is inclined to 
believe that the discipline is in danger of becoming an " Allerleiwis- 
senschajt," whose vast undefined territory is the land of " Weiss- 
nichtwo." The strict delimitation of the field and problems of science 
is demanded in the interest of a serviceable division of scientific labor 
and in the interest of an intelligible classification of the accumulated 
products of research. 



[Frederick J. E. Woodbridge, Jolmsonian Professor of Philosophy in Columbia 
University, New York, N. Y., since 1902. b. Windsor, Ontario, Canada, 
March 26, 1867. A.B. Amherst College, 1889; Union Theological Seminary, 
1892; A.M. 1898, LL.D. 1903, Amherst College. Post-grad. Berlin Univers- 
ity. Instructor in Philosophy, University of Minnesota, 1894-95; Professor 
of Philosophy and head of department, 1895-1902. Member of American 
Association for the Advancement of Science, American Philosophical Associ- 
ation, American Pyschological Association. Editor of the Journal of Philo- 
sophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods.] 

CURRENT tendencies in logical theory make a determination of the 
field of logic fundamental to any statement of the general problems 
of the science. In view of this fact, I propose in this paper to attempt 
such a determination by a general discussion of the relation of logic 
to mathematics, psychology, and biology, especially noting in con- 
nection with biology the tendency known as pragmatism. In con- 
clusion, I shall indicate what the resulting general problems appear 
to be. 


There may appear, at first, little to distinguish mathematics in its 
most abstract, formal, and symbolic type from logic. Indeed, math- 
ematics as the universal method of all knowledge has been the ideal 
of many philosophers, and its right to be such has been claimed of 
late with renewed force. The recent notable advances in the science 
have done much to make this claim plausible. A logician, a non- 
mathematical one, might be tempted to say that, in so far as mathe- 
matics is the method of thought in general, it has ceased to be 
mathematics; but, I suppose, one ought not to quarrel too much 
with a definition, but should let mathematics mean knowledge 
simply, if the mathematicians wish it. I shall not, therefore, enter 
the controversy regarding the proper limits of mathematical inquiry. 
I wish to note, however, a tendency in the identification of logic and 
mathematics which seems to me to be inconsistent with the real 
significance of knowledge. I refer to the exaltation of the freedom 
of thought in the construction of conceptions, definitions, and hypo- 

The assertion that mathematics is a "pure" science is often taken 
to mean that it is in no way dependent on experience in the construc- 
tion of its basal concepts. The space with which geometry deals 
may be Euclidean or not, as we please; it may be the real space of 

314 LOGIC 

experience or not; the properties of it and the conclusions reached 
about it may hold in the real world or they may not; for the mind is 
free to construct its conception and definition of space in accordance 
with its own aims. Whether geometry is to be ultimately a science 
of this type must be left, I suppose, for the mathematicians to decide. 
A logician may suggest, however, that the propriety of calling all 
these conceptions "space" is not as clear as it ought to be. Still 
further, there seems to underlie all arbitrary spaces, as their founda- 
tion, a good deal of the solid material of empirical knowledge, gained 
by human beings through contact with an environing world, the 
environing character of which seems to be quite independent of 
the freedom of their thought. However that may be, it is evident, 
I think, that the generalization of the principle involved in this idea 
of the freedom of thought in framing its conception of space, would, 
if extended to logic, give us a science of knowledge which would 
have no necessary relation to the real things of experience, although 
these are the things with which all concrete knowledge is most 
evidently concerned. It would inform us about the conclusions 
which necessarily follow from accepted conceptions, but it could 
not inform us in any way about the real truth of these conclusions. 
It would, thus, always leave a gap between our knowledge and its 
objects which logic itself would be quite impotent to close. Truth 
would thus become an entirely extra-logical matter. So far as the 
science of knowledge is concerned, it would be an accident if knowledge 
fitted the world to which it refers. Such a conception of the science 
of knowledge is not the property of a few mathematicians exclusively, 
although they have, perhaps, done more than others to give it its 
present revived vitality. It is the classic doctrine that logic is the 
science of thought as thought, meaning thereby thought in inde- 
pendence of any specific object whatever. 

In regard to this doctrine, I would not even admit that such a 
science of knowledge is possible. You cannot, by a process of general- 
ization or free construction, rid thought of connection with objects; 
and there is no such thing as a general content or as content-in- 
general. Generalization simply reduces the richness of content and, 
consequently, of implication. It deals with concrete subject-matter 
as much and as directly as if the content were individual and r^cial- 
ized. "Things equal to the same thing are equal to each other," is a 
truth, not about thought, but about things. The conclusions about 
a fourth dimension follow, not from the fact that we have thought 
of one, but from the conception about it which we have framed. 
Neither generalization nor free construction can reveal the operations 
of thought in transcendental independence. 

It may be urged, however, that nothing of this sort was ever 
claimed. The bondage of thought to content must be admitted, but 


generalization and free construction, just because they give us the 
power to vary conditions as we please, give us thinking in a relative 
independence of content, and thus show us how thought operates 
irrespective of, although not independent of, its content. The bino- 
mial theorem operates irrespective of the values substituted for its 
symbols. But I can find no gain in this restatement of the position. 
It is true, in a sense, that we may determine the way thought operates 
irrespective of any specific content by the processes of generalization 
and free construction; but it is important to know in what sense. 
Can we claim that such irrespective operation means that we have 
discovered certain logical constants, which now stand out as the 
distinctive tools of thought? Or does it rather mean that this process 
of varying the content of thought as we please reveals certain real 
constants, certain ultimate characters of reality, which no amount of 
generalization or free construction can possibly alter? The second 
alternative seems to me to be the correct one. Whether it is or not 
may be left here undecided. What I wish to emphasize is the fact 
that the decision is one of the things of vital interest for logic, and 
properly belongs in that science. Clearly, we can never know the 
significance of ultimate constants for our thinking until we know 
what their real character is. To determine that character we must 
most certainly pass out of the realm of generalization and free con- 
struction; logic must become other than simply mathematical or 

There is another sense in which the determination of the operations 
of thought irrespective of its specific content is interpreted in con- 
nection with the exaltation of generalization and free construction. 
Knowledge, it is said, is solely a matter of implication, and logic, 
therefore, is the science of implication simply. If this is so, it would 
appear possible to develop the whole doctrine of implication by the 
use of symbols, and thus free the doctrine from dependence on the 
question as to how far these symbols are themselves related to the 
real things of the world. If, for instance, a implies &, then, if a is 
true, 6 is true, and this quite irrespective of the real truth of a or b. 
It is to be urged, however, in opposition to this view, that knowledge 
is concerned ultimately only with the real truth of a and 6, and 
that the implication is of no significance whatever apart from this 
truth. There is no virtue in the mere implication. Still further, the 
supposition that there can be a doctrine of implication, simply, 
seems to be based on a misconception. For even so-called formal 
implication gets its significance only on the supposed truth of the 
terms with which it deals. We suppose that a does imply b, and that 
a is true. In other words, we can state this law of implication only 
as we first have valid instances of it given in specific, concrete cases. 
The law is a generalization and nothing more. The formal statement 

316 LOGIC 

gives only an apparent freedom from experience. Moreover, there is 
no reason for saying that a implies b unless it does so either really or 
by supposition. If a really implies b, then the implication is clearly 
not a matter of thinking it; and to suppose the implication is to feign 
a reality, the implications of which are equally free from the processes 
by which they are thought. Ultimately, therefore, logic must take 
account of real implications. We cannot avoid this through the use 
of a symbolism which virtually implies them. Implication can have 
a logical character only because it has first a metaphysical one. 

The supposition underlying the conception of logic I have been 
examining is, itself, open to doubt and seriously questioned. That 
supposition was the so-called freedom of thought. The argument 
has already shown that there is certainly a very definite limit to this 
freedom, even when logic is conceived in a very abstract and formal 
way. The processes of knowledge are bound up with their contents, 
and have their character largely determined thereby. When, more- 
over, we view knowledge in its genesis, when we take into considera- 
tion the contributions which psychology and biology have made to 
our general view of what knowledge is, we seem forced to conclude 
that the conceptions which we frame are very far from being our own 
free creations. They have, on the contrary, been laboriously worked 
out through the same processes of successful adaptation which have 
resulted in other products. Knowledge has grown up in connection 
with the unfolding processes of reality, and has, by no means, freely 
played over its surface. That is why even the most abstract of all 
mathematics is yet grounded in the evolution of human experience. 

In the remaining parts of this paper, I shall discuss further the 
claims of psychology and biology. The conclusion I would draw 
here is that the field of logic cannot be restricted to a realm where 
the operations of thought are supposed to move freely, independent 
or irrespective of their contents and the objects of a real world; 
and that mathematics, instead of giving us any support for the 
supposition that it can, carries us, by the processes of symbolization 
and formal implication, to recognize that logic must ultimately find 
its field where implications are real, independent of the processes 
by which they are thought, and irrespective of the conceptions we 
choose to frame. 


The processes involved in the acquisition and systematization of 
knowledge may, undoubtedly, be regarded as mental processes and 
fall thus within the province of psychology. It may be claimed, 
therefore, that every logical process is also a psychological one. The 
important question is, however, is it nothing more? Do its logical 
and psychological characters simply coincide? Or, to put the ques- 


tion in still another form, as a psychological process simply, does 
it also serve as a logical one? The answers to these questions can be 
determined only by first noting what psychology can say about it 
as a mental process. 

In the first place, psychology can analyze it, and so determine 
its elements and their connections. It can thus distinguish it from all 
other mental processes by pointing out its unique elements or their 
unique and characteristic connection. No one will deny that a 
judgment is different from an emotion, or that an act of reasoning is 
different from a volition; and no one will claim that these differences 
are entirely beyond the psychologist's power to ascertain accurately 
and precisely. Still further,, it appears possible for him to determine 
with the same accuracy and precision the distinction in content and 
connection between processes which are true and those which are 
false. For, as mental processes, it is natural to suppose that they 
contain distinct differences of character which are ascertainable. 
The states of mind called belief, certainty, conviction, correctness, 
truth, are thus, doubtless, all distinguishable as mental states. It 
may be admitted, therefore, that there can be a thoroughgoing 
psychology of logical processes. 

Yet it is quite evident to me that the characterization of a mental 
process as logical is not a psychological characterization. In fact, 
I think it may be claimed that the characterization of any mental 
process in a specific way, say as an emotion, is extra-psychological. 
Judgments and inferences are, in short, not judgments and inferences 
because they admit of psychological analysis and explanation, any 
more than space is space because the perception of it can be worked 
out by genetic psychology. In other words, knowledge is first know- 
ledge, and only later a set of processes for psychological analysis. 
That is why, as it seems to me, all psychological logicians, from Locke 
to our own day, have signally failed in dealing with the problem of 
knowledge. The attempt to construct knowledge out of mental 
states, the relations between ideas, and the relation of ideas to 
things, has been, as I read the history, decidedly without profit. 
Confusion and divergent opinion have resulted instead of agreement 
and confidence. On precisely the same psychological foundation, 
we have such divergent views of knowledge as idealism, phenomenal- 
ism, and agnosticism, with many other strange mixtures of logic, 
psychology, and metaphysics. The lesson of these perplexing theories 
seems to be that logic, as logic, must be divorced from psychology. 

It is also of importance to note, in this connection, that the deter- 
mination of a process as mental and as thus falling within the domain 
of psychology strictly, has by no means been worked out to the 
general satisfaction of psychologists themselves. Recent literature 
abounds in elaborate discussion of the distinction between what is 

318 LOGIC 

a mental fact and what not, with a prevailing tendency to draw the 
remarkable conclusion that all facts are somehow mental or experi- 
enced facts. The situation would be worse for psychology than it is, 
if that vigorous science had not learned from other sciences the valu- 
able knack of isolating concrete problems and attacking them 
directly, without the burden of previous logical or metaphysical 
speculation. Thus knowledge, which is the peculiar province of logic, 
is increased, while we wait for the acceptable definition of a mental 
fact. But definitions, be it remembered, are themselves logical 
matters. Indeed, some psychologists have gone so far as to claim 
that the distinction of a fact as mental is a purely logical distinc- 
tion. This is significant as indicating that the time has not yet come 
for the identification of logic and psychology. 

In refreshingly sharp contrast to the vagueness and uncertainty 
which beset the definition of a mental fact are the palpable concrete- 
ness and definiteness of knowledge itself. Every science, even history 
and philosophy, are instances of it. What constitutes a knowledge 
ought to be as definite and precise a question as could be asked. 
That logic has made no more progress than it has in the answer to it 
appears to be due to the fact that it has not sufficiently grasped the 
significance of its own simplicity. Knowledge has been the important 
business of thinking man, and he ought to be able to tell what he does 
in order to know, as readily as he tells what he does in order to build 
a house. And that is why the Aristotelian logic has held its own so 
long. In that logic, " the master of them that know " simply rehearsed 
the way he had systematized his 'own stores of knowledge. Naturally 
we, so far as we have followed his methods, have had practically 
nothing to add. In our efforts to improve on him, we have too often 
left the right way and followed the impossible method inaugurated 
by Locke. Had we examined with greater persistence our own 
methods of making science, we should have profited more. The 
introduction of psychology, instead of helping the situation, only 
confuses it. 

Let it be granted, however, in spite of the vagueness of what is 
meant by a mental fact, that logical processes are also mental pro- 
cesses. This fact has, as I have already suggested, an important 
bearing on their genesis, and sets very definite limits to the freedom 
of thought in creating. It is not, however, as mental processes that 
they have the value of knowledge. A mental process which is know- 
ledge purports to be connected with something other than itself. 
something which may not be a mental process at all. This connection 
should be investigated, but the investigation of it belongs, not to 
psychology, but to logic. 

I am well aware that this conclusion runs counter to some meta- 
physical doctrines, and especially to idealism in all its forms, with the 


epistemologies based thereon. It is, of course, impossible here to 
defend my position by an elaborate analysis of these metaphysical 
systems. But I will say this. I am in entire agreement with idealism 
in its claim that questions of knowledge and of the nature of reality 
cannot ultimately be separated, because we can know reality only 
as we know it. But the general question as to how we know reality 
can still be raised. By this I do not mean the question, how is it 
possible for us to have knowledge at all, or how it is possible for reality 
to be known at all, but how, as a matter of fact, we actually do know 
it? That we really do know it, I would most emphatically claim. 
Still further, I would claim that what we know about it is determined, 
not by the fact that we can know in general, but by the way reality, 
as distinct from our knowledge, has determined. These ways appear 
to me to be ascertainable, and form, thus, undoubtedly, a section 
of metaphysics. But the metaphysics will naturally be realistic rather 
than idealistic. 


Just as logical processes may be regarded as, at the same time, 
psychological processes, so they may be regarded, with equal right, 
as vital processes, coming thus under the categories of evolution. 
The tendency so to regard them is very marked at the present day, 
especially in France and in this country. In France, the movement 
has perhaps received the clearer definition. In America the union of 
logic and biology is complicated - - and at times even lost sight of - 
by emphasis on the idea of evolution generally. It is not my intention 
to trace the history of this movement, but I should like to call atten- 
tion to its historic motive in order to get it in a clear light. 

That the theory of evolution, even Darwinism itself, has radically 
transformed our historical, scientific, and philosophical methods, is 
quite evident. Add to this the influence of the Hegelian philosophy, 
with its own doctrine of development, and one finds the causes of 
the rather striking unanimity which is discoverable in many ways 


between Hegelian idealists, on the one hand, and philosophers of 
evolution of Spencer's type, on the other. Although two men would, 
perhaps, not appear more radically different at first sight than Hegel 
and Spencer, I am inclined to believe that we shall come to recognize 
more and more in them an identity of philosophical conception. The 
pragmatism of the day is a striking confirmation of this opinion, for 
it is often the expression of Hegelian ideas in Darwinian and Spencer- 
ian terminology. The claims of idealism and of evolutionary science 
and philosophy have thus sought reconciliation. Logic has been, 
naturally, the last of the sciences to yield to evolutionary and genetic 
treatment. It could not escape long, especially when the idea of 
evolution had been so successful in its handling of ethics. If morality 

320 LOGIC 

can be brought under the categories of evolution, why not thinking 
also? In answer to that question we have the theory that thinking 
is an adaptation, judgment is instrumental. But I would not leave 
the impression that this is true of pragmatism alone, or that it has 
been developed only through pragmatic tendencies. It is naturally 
the result also of the extension of biological philosophy. In the 
biological conception of logic, we have, then, an interesting coinci- 
dence in the results of tendencies differing widely in their genesis. 

It would be hazardous to deny, without any qualifications, the 
importance of genetic considerations. Indeed, the fact that evolution 
in the hands of a thinker like Huxley, for instance, should make con- 
sciousness and thinking apparently useless epiphenomena in a devel- 
oping world, has seemed like a most contradictory evolutionary 
philosophy. It was difficult to make consciousness a real function in 
development so long as it was regarded as only cognitive in character. 
Evolutionary philosophy, coupled with physics, had built up a sort of 
closed system with which consciousness could not interfere, but which 
it could know, and know with all the assurance of a traditional logic. 
If, however, we were to be consistent evolutionists, we could not abide 
by such a remarkable result. The whole process of thinking must be 
brought within evolution, so that knowledge, even the knowledge of 
the evolutionary hypothesis itself, must appear as an instance of 
adaptation. In order to do this, however, consciousness must not be 
conceived as only cognitive. Judgment, the core of logical processes, 
must be regarded as an instrument and as a mode of adaptation. 

The desire for completeness and consistency in an evolutionary 
philosophy is not the only thing which makes the denial of genetic 
considerations hazardous. Strictly biological considerations furnish 
reasons of equal weight for caution. For instance, one will hardly 
deny that the whole sensory apparatus is a striking instance of 
adaptation. Our perceptions of the world would thus appear to be 
determined by this adaptation, to be instances of adjustment. They 
might conceivably have been different, and in the case of many other 

creatures, the perceptions of the world are undoubtedly different. 
All our logical processes, referring ultimately as they do to our per- 
ceptions, would thus appear finally to depend on the adaptation 
exhibited in the development of our sensory apparatus. So-called 
laws of thought would seem to be but abstract statements or formu- 
lations of the results of this adjustment. It would be absurd to sup- 
pose that a man thinks in a sense radically different from that in 
which he digests, or a flower blossoms, or that two and two are four 
in a sense radically different from that in which a flower has a given 
number of petals. Thinking, like digesting and blossoming, is an 
effect, a product, possibly a structure. 

I am not at all interested in denying the force of these considera- 


tions. They have, to my mind, the greatest importance, and due 
weight has, as yet, not been given to them. To one at all committed 
to a unitary and evolutionary view of the world, it must indeed seem 
strange if thinking itself should not be the result of evolution, or that, 
in thinking, parts of the world had not become adjusted in a new- 
way. But while I am ready to admit this, I am by no means ready to 
admit some of the conclusions for logic and metaphysics which are 
often drawn from the admission. Just because thought, as a product 
of evolution, is functional and judgment instrumental, it by no means 
follows that logic is but a branch of biology, or that knowledge of the 
world is but a temporary adjustment, which, as knowledge, might 
have been radically different. In these conclusions, often drawn with 
Protagorean assurance, two considerations of crucial importance 
seem to be overlooked, first, that adaptation is itself metaphysical in 
character, and secondly, that while knowledge may be functional and 
judgment instrumental, the character of the functioning has the 
character of knowledge, which sets it off sharply from all o^her 

It seems strange to me that the admission that knowledge is a 
matter of adaptation, and thus a relative matter, should, in these 
days, be regarded as in any way destroying the claims of knowledge 
to metaphysical certainty. Yet, somehow, the opinion widely prevails 
that the doctrine of relativity necessarily involves the surrender of 
anything like absolute truth. " All our knowledge is relative, and, 
therefore, only partial, incomplete, and but practically -trustworthy/' 
is a statement repeatedly made. The fact that, if our development 
had been different, our knowledge would have been different, is 
taken to involve the conclusion that our knowledge cannot possibly 
disclose the real constitution of things, that it is essentially condi- 
tional, that it is only a mental device for getting results, that any 
other system of knowledge which would get results equally well 
would be equally true; in short, that there can be no such thing as 
metaphysical or epistemological truth. These conclusions do indeed 
seem strange, and especially strange on the basis of evolution. For 
while the evolutionary process might, conceivably, have been dif- 
ferent, its results are, in any case, the results of the process. They 
are not arbitrary. We might have digested without stomachs, but 
the fact that we use stomachs in this important process ought not to 
free us from metaphysical respect for the organ. As M. Rey suggests, 
in the Revue Philosophique for June, 1904, a creature without the 
sense of smell would have no geometry, but that does not make 
geometry essentially hypothetical, a mere mental construction; for 
we have geometry because of the working out of nature's laws. 
Indeed, instead of issuing in a relativistic metaphysics of knowledge, 
the doctrine of relativity should issue in the recognition of the finality 

322 LOGIC 

of knowledge in every case of ascertainably complete adaptation. In 
other words, adaptation is itself metaphysical in character. Adjust- 
ment is always adjustment between things, and yields only what it 
does yield. The things or elements get into the state which is their 
adjustment, and this adjustment purports to be their actual and 
unequivocal ordering in relation to one another. Different conditions 
might have produced a different ordering, but, again, this ordering 
would be equally actual and unequivocal, equally the one ordering to 
issue from them. To suppose or admit that the course of events might 
have been and might be different is not at all to suppose or admit 
that it was or is different; it is, rather, to suppose and admit that we 
have real knowledge of what that course really was and is. This seems 
to be very obvious. 

Yet the evolutionist often thinks that he is not a metaphysician, 
even when he brings all his conceptions systematically under the 
conception of evolution. This must be due to some temporary lack of 
clearness. If evolution is not a metaphysical doctrine when extended 
to apply to all science, all morality, all logic, in short, all things, then 
it is quite meaningless for evolutionists to pronounce a metaphysical 
sentence on logical processes. But if evolution is a metaphysics, then 
its sentence is metaphysical, and in every case of adjustment or 
adaptation we have a revelation of the nature of reality in a definite 
and unequivocal form. This conclusion applies to logical processes as 
well as to others. The recognition that they are vital processes can, 
therefore, have little significance for these processes in their distinct- 
ive character as logical. They are like all other vital processes in 
that they are vital and subject to evolution. They are unlike all 
others in that thought is unlike digestion or breathing. To regard 
logical processes as vital processes does not in any way, therefore, 
invalidate them as logical processes or make it superfluous to consider 
their claim to give us real knowledge of a real world. Indeed, it makes 
such a consideration more necessary and important. 

A second consideration overlooked by the Protagorean tendencies 
of the day is that judgment, even if it is instrumental, purports to 
give us knowledge, that is, it claims to reveal what is independent of 
the judging process. Perhaps I ought not to say that this considera- 
tion is overlooked, but rather that it is denied significance. It is even 
denied to be essential to judgment. It is claimed that, instead of 
revealing anything independent of the judging process, judgment is 
just the adjustment and no more. It is a reorganization of experience, 
an attempt at control. All this looks to me like a misstatement of the 
facts. Judgment claims to be no such thing. It does not function as 
such a thing. When I make any judgment, even the simplest, I may 
make it as the result of tension, because of a demand for reorganiza- 
tion, in order to secure control of experience; but the judgment 


means for me something quite different. It means decidedly and 
unequivocally that in reality, apart from the judging process, things 
exist and operate just as the judgment declares. If it is claimed that 
this meaning is illusory, I eagerly desire to know on what solid ground 
its illusoriness can be established. When the conclusion was reached 
that gravitation varies directly as the mass and inversely as the 
square of the distance, it was doubtless reached in an evolutionary 
and pragmatic way; but it claimed to disclose a fact which prevailed 
before the conclusion was reached, and in spite of the conclusion. 
Knowledge has been born of the travail of living, but it has been 
born as knowledge. 

When the knowledge character of judgment is insisted on, it seems 
almost incredible that any one would think of denying or overlooking 
it. Indeed, current discussions are far from clear on the subject. 
Pragmatists are constantly denying that they hold the conclusions 
that their critics almost unanimously draw. There is, therefore, a 
good deal of confusion of thought yet to be dispelled. Yet there 
seems to be current a pronounced determination to banish the epi- 
stemological problem from logic. This is, to my mind, suspicious, even 
when epistemology is defined in a way which most epistemologists 
would not approve. It is suspicious just because we must always 
ask eventually that most epistemological and metaphysical question : 
" Is knowledge true? " To answer, it is true when it functions in a way 
to satisfy the needs which generated its activity, is, no doubt, correct, 
but it is by no means adequate. The same answer can be made to 
the inquiry after the efficiency of any vital process whatever, and is, 
therefore, not distinctive. We have still to inquire into the specific 
character of the needs which originate judgments and of the conse- 
quent satisfaction. Just here is where the uniqueness of the logical 
problem is disclosed. With conscious beings, the success of the things 
they do has become increasingly dependent on their ability to discover 
what takes place in independence of the knowing process. That is the 
need which generates judgment. The satisfaction is, of course, the 
attainment of the discovery. Now to make the judgment itself and 
not the consequent action the instrumental factor seems to me to 
misstate the facts of the case. Nothing is clearer than that there 
is no necessity for knowledge to issue in adjustment. And it is clear 
to me that increased control of experience, while resulting from 
knowledge, does not give to it its character. Omniscience could idly 
view the transformations of reality and yet remain omniscient. 
Knowledge works, but it is not, therefore, knowledge. 

These considerations have peculiar force when applied to that 
branch of knowledge which is knowledge itself. Is the biological 
account of knowledge correct? That question we must evidently 
ask, especially when we are urged to accept the account. Can we, 

324 LOGIC 

to put the question in its most general form, accept as an adequate 
account of the logical process a theory which is bound up with some 
other specific department of human knowledge? It seems to me that 
we cannot. Here we must be epistemologists and metaphysicians, 
or give up the problem entirely. This by no means involves the 
attempt to conceive pure thought set over against pure reality the 
kind of epistemology and metaphysics justly ridiculed by the prag- 
matist for knowledge, as already stated, is given to us in concrete 
instances. How knowledge in general is possible is, therefore, as use- 
less and meaningless a question as how reality in general is possible. 
The knowledge is given as a fact of life, and what we have to deter- 
mine is not its non-logical antecedents or its practical consequences, 
but its constitution as knowledge and its validity. It may be admitted 
that the question of validity is settled pragmatically. No knowledge 
is true unless it yields results which can be verified, unless it can issue 
in increased control of experience. But I insist again that that fact 
is not sufficient for an account of what knowledge claims to be. It 
claims to issue in control because it is true in independence of the 
control. And it is just this assurance that is needed to distinguish 
knowledge from what is not knowledge. It is the necessity of exhibit- 
ing this assurance which makes it impossible to subordinate logical 
problems, and forces us at last to questions of epistemology and 

As I am interested here primarily in determining the field of logic, 
it is somewhat outside my province to consider the details of logical 
theory. Yet the point just raised is of so much importance in con- 
nection with the main question that I venture the following general 
considerations. This is, perhaps, the more necessary because the 
pragmatic doctrine finds in the concession made regarding the test 
of validity one of its strongest defenses. 

Of course a judgment is not true simply because it is a judgment. 
It may be false. The only way to settle its validity is to discover 
whether experience actually provides what the judgment promises, 
that is, whether the conclusions drawn from it really enable us to 
control experience. No mere speculation will yield the desired result, 
no matter with how much formal validity the conclusions may be 
drawn. That merely formal validity is not the essential thing, I 
have pointed out in discussing the relation of logic to mathematics. 
The test of truth is pragmatic. It is apparent, therefore, that the 
formal validity does not determine the actual validity. What is 
this but the statement that the process of judgment is not itself the 
determining factor in its real validity? It is, in short, only valid 
judgments that can really give us control of experience. The impli- 
cations taken up in the judgment must, therefore, be real implica- 
tions which, as such, have nothing to do with the judging process, 


and which, most certainly, are not brought about by it. And what 
is this but the claim that judgment as such is never instrumental ? 
In other words, a judgment which effected its own content would 
only by the merest accident function as valid knowledge. We have 
valid knowledge, then, only when the implications of the judgment 
are found to be independent of the judging process. We have know- 
ledge only at the risk of error. The pragmatic test of validity, instead 
of proving the instrumental character of judgment, would thus 
appear to prove just the reverse. 

Valid knowledge has, therefore, for its content a system of real, 
not judged or hypothetical implications. The central problem of 
logic which results from this fact is not how a knowledge of real 
implications is then possible, but what are the ascertainable types 
of real implications. But, it may be urged, we need some criterion to 
determine what a real implication is. I venture to reply that we 
need none, if by such is meant anything else than the facts with 
which we are dealing. I need no other criterion than the circle to 
determine whether its diameters are really equal. And, in general, 
I need no other criterion than the facts dealt with to determine 
whether they really imply what I judge them to imply. Logic appears 
to me to be really as simple as this. Yet there can be profound pro- 
blems involved in the working out of this simple procedure. There is 
the problem already stated of the most general types of real impli- 
cation, or, in other words, the time-honored doctrine of categories. 
Whether there are categories or basal types of existence seems to me 
to be ascertainable. When ascertained, it is also possible to discover 
the types of inference or implication which they afford. This is by 
no means the whole of logic, but it appears to me to be its central 

These considerations will, I hope, throw light on the statement 
that while knowledge works, it is not therefore knowledge. It works 
because its content existed before its discovery by the knowledge 
process, and because its content was not effected or brought about 
by that process. Judgment was the instrument of its discovery, not 
the instrument which fashioned it. While, therefore, willing to admit 
that logical processes are vital processes, I am not willing to admit 
that the problem of logic is radically changed thereby in its formu- 
lation or solution, for the vital processes in question have the unique 
character of knowledge, the content of which is what it claims to be, 
a system of real implications which existed prior to its discovery. 

In the psychological and biological tendencies in logic, there is, 
however, I think, a distinct gain for logical theory. The insistence 
that logical processes are both mental and vital has done much to 
take them out of the transcendental aloofness from reality in which 
they have often been placed, especially since Kant. So long as 

326 LOGIC 

thought and object were so separated that they could never be 
brought together, and so long as logical processes were conceived 
wholly in terms of ideas set over against objects, there was no hope 
of escape from the realm of pure hypothesis and conjecture. Locke's 
axiom that "the mind, in all its thoughts and reasonings, hath no 
other immediate object but its own ideas," an axiom which Kant 
did so much to sanctify, and which has been the basal principle of 
the greater part of modern logic and metaphysics, is most certainly 
subversive of logical theory. The transition from ideas to anything 
else is rendered impossible by it. Now it is just this axiom which the 
biological tendencies in logic have done so much to destroy. They 
have insisted, with the greatest right, that logical processes are not 
set over against their content as idea against object, as appearance 
against reality, but are processes of reality itself. Just as reality 
can and does function in a physical or a physiological way, so also 
it functions in a logical way. The state we call knowledge becomes, 
thus, as much a part of the system of things as the state we call 
chemical combination. The problem how thought can know anything 
becomes, therefore, as irrelevant as the problem how elements can 
combine at all. The recognition of this is a great gain, and the 
promise of it most fruitful for both logic and metaphysics. 

But, as I have tried to point out, all this surrendering of pure 
thought as opposed to pure reality, does not at all necessitate our 
regarding judgment as a process which makes reality different 
from what it was before. Of course there is one difference, namely, 
the logical one; for reality prior to logical processes is unknown. As 
a result of these processes it becomes known. These processes are, 
therefore, responsible for a known as distinct from an unknown 
reality. But what is the transformation which reality undergoes in 
becoming known? When it becomes known that water seeks its own 
level, what change has taken place in the water? It would appear 
that we must answer, none. The water which seeks its own level has 
not been transformed into ideas or even into a human experience. 
It appears to remain, as water, precisely what it was before. The 
transformation which takes place, takes place in the one who knows, 
a transformation from ignorance to knowledge. Psychology and bio- 
logy can afford us the natural history of this transformation, but 
they cannot inform us in the least as to why it should have its 
specific character. That is given and not deduced. The attempts to 
deduce it have, without exception, been futile. That is why we are 
forced to take it as ultimate in the same way we take as ultimate 
the specific character of any definite transformation. To my mind, 
there is needed a fuller and more cordial recognition of this fact. The 
conditions under which we, as individuals, know are certainly dis- 
coverable, just as much as the conditions under which we breathe 


or digest. And what happens to things when we know them is also 
as discoverable as what happens to them when we breathe them or 
digest them. 

But here the idealist may interpose that we can never know what 
happens to things when we know them, because we can never know 
them before they become known. I suppose I ought to wrestle with 
this objection. It is an obvious one, but, to my mind, it is without 
force. The objection, if pursued, can carry us only in a circle. The 
problem of knowledge is still on our hands, and every logician of 
whatever school, the offerer of this objection also, has, nevertheless, 
attempted to show what the transformation is that thought works, 
for all admit that it works some. Are we, therefore, engaged in a 
hopeless task? Or have we failed to grasp the significance of our 
problem? I think the latter. We fail to recognize that, in one way 
or other, we do solve the problem, and that our attempts to solve it 
show quite clearly that the objection under consideration is without 
force. Take, for instance, any concrete case of knowledge, the water 
seeking its own level, again. Follow the process of knowledge to the 
fullest extent, we never find a single problem which is not solvable 
by reference to the concrete things with which we are dealing, nor 
a single solution which is not forced upon us by these things rather 
than by the fact that we deal with them. The transformation wrought 
is thus discovered, in the progress of knowledge itself, to be wrought 
solely in the inquiring individual, and wrought by repeated contact 
with the things with which he deals. In other words, all knowledge 
discloses the fact that its content is not created by itself, but by the 
things with which it is concerned. 

It is quite possible, therefore, that knowledge should be what 
we call transcendent and yet not involve us in a transcendental 
logic. That we should be able to know without altering the things we 
know is no more and no less remarkable and mysterious than that 
we should be able to digest by altering the things we digest. In 
other words, the fact that digestion alters the things is no reason 
that knowledge should alter them, even if we admit that logical 
processes are vital and subject to evolution. Indeed, if evolution 
teaches us any thing on this point, it is that knowledge processes are 
real just as they exist, as real as growth and digestion, and must 
have their character described in accordance with what they are. The 
recognition that knowledge can be transcendent and yet its processes 
vital seems to throw light on the difficulty evolution has encountered 
in accounting for consciousness and knowledge. All the reactions 
of the individual seem to be expressible in terms of chemistry and 
physics without calling in consciousness as an operating factor. What 
is this but the recognition of its transcendence, especially when the 
conditions of conscious activity are quite likely expressible in ohen> 

328 LOGIC 

ical and physical terms? While, therefore, biological considerations 
result in the great gain of giving concrete reality to the processes of 
knowledge, the gain is lost, if knowledge itself is denied the tran- 
scendence which it so evidently discloses. 


The argument advanced in this discussion has had the aim of 
emphasizing the fact that in knowledge we have actually given, as 
content, reality as it is in independence of the act of knowing, that the 
real world is self-existent, independent of the judgments we make 
about it. This fact has been emphasized in order to confine the 
field of logic to the field of knowledge as thus understood. In the 
course of the argument, I have occasionally indicated what some 
of the resulting problems of logic are. These I wish now to state in 
a somewhat more systematic way. 

The basal problem of logic becomes, undoubtedly, the metaphysics 
of knowledge, the determination of the nature of knowledge and its 
relation to reality. It is quite evident that this is just the problem 
which the current tendencies criticised have sought, not to solve, 
but to avoid or set aside. Their motives for so doing have been 
mainly the difficulties which have arisen from the Kantian philo- 
sophy in its development into transcendentalism, and the desire 
to extend the category of evolution to embrace the whole of reality, 
knowledge included. I confess to feeling the force of these motives 
as strongly as any advocate of the criticised opinions. But I do not 
see my way clear to satisfying them by denying or explaining away 
the evident character of knowledge itself. It appears far better 
to admit that a metaphysics of knowledge is as yet hopeless, rather 
than so to transform knowledge as to get rid of the problem; for we 
must ultimately ask after the truth of the transformation. But I 
am far from believing that a metaphysics of knowledge is hopeless. 
The biological tendencies themselves seem to furnish us with much 
material for at least the beginnings of one. Reality known is to be set 
over against reality unknown or independent of knowledge, not as 
image to original, idea to thing, phenomena to noumena, appearance 
to reality; but reality as known is a new stage in the development of 
reality itself. It is not an external mind which knows reality by 
means of its own ideas, but reality itself becomes known through 
its own expanding and readjusting processes. So far I am in entire 
agreement with the tendencies I have criticised. But what change is 
effected by this expansion and readjustment? I can find no other 
answer than this simple one : the change to knowledge. And by this 
I mean to assert unequivocally that the addition of knowledge to 
a reality hitherto without it is simply an addition to it and not a 
transformation of it. Such a view may appear to make knowledge 


a wholly useless addition, but I see no inherent necessity in such a 
conclusion. Nor do I see any inherent necessity of supposing that 
knowledge must be a useful addition. Yet I would not be so foolish 
as to deny the usefulness of knowledge. We have, of course, the 
most palpable evidences of its use. As we examine them, I think we 
find, without exception, that knowledge is useful just in proportion 
as we find that reality is not transformed by being known. If it really 
were transformed in that process, could anything else than confusion 
result from the multitude of knowing individuals? 

To me, therefore, the metaphysics of the situation resolves itself 
into the realistic position that a developing reality develops, under 
ascertainable conditions, into a known reality without undergoing 
any other transformation, and that this new stage marks an advance 
in the efficiency of reality in its adaptations. My confidence steadily 
grows that this whole process can be scientifically worked out. It is 
impossible here to justify my confidence in detail, and I must leave 
the matter with the following suggestion. The point from which 
knowledge starts and to which it ultimately returns is always some 
portion of reality where there is consciousness, the things, namely, 
which, we are wont to say, are in consciousness. These things are not 
ideas representing other things outside of consciousness, but real 
things, which, by being in consciousness, have the capacity of repre- 
senting each other, of standing for or implying each other. Know- 
ledge is not the creation of these implications, but their successful 
systematization. It will be found, I think, that this general state- 
ment is true of every concrete case of knowledge which we possess. 
Its detailed working out would be a metaphysics of knowledge, an 

Since knowledge is the successful systematization of the implica- 
tions which are disclosed in things by virtue of consciousness, a 
second logical problem of fundamental importance is the determina- 
tion of the most general types of implication with the categories 
which underlie them. The execution of this problem would naturally 
involve, as subsidiary, the greater part of formal and symbolic logic. 
Indeed, vital doctrines of the syllogism, of definition, of formal 
inference, of the calculus of classes and propositions, of the logic of 
relations, appear to be bound up ultimately with a doctrine of cate- 
gories; for it is only a recognition of basal types of existence with 
their implications that can save these doctrines from mere formal- 
ism. These types of existence or categories are not to be regarded 
as free creations or as the contributions of the mind to experience. 
There is no deduction of them possible. They must be discovered 
in the actual progress of knowledge itself, and I see no reason to 
suppose that their number is necessarily fixed, or that we should 
necessarily be in possession of all of them. It is requisite, however, 

330 LOGIC 

that in every case categories should be incapable of reduction to 
each other. 

A doctrine of categories seems to me to be of the greatest import- 
ance in the systematization of knowledge, for no problem of relation 
is even stateable correctly before the type of existence to which its 
terms belong has been first determined. I submit one illustration 
to reinforce this general statement, namely, the relation of mind to 
body. If mind and body belong to the same type of existence, we 
have one set of problems on our hands; but if they do not, we have 
an entirely different set. Yet volumes of discussion written on this 
subject have abounded in confusion, simply because they have 
regarded mind and body as belonging to radically different types of 
existence and yet related in terms of the type to which one of them 
belongs. The doctrine of parallelism is, perhaps, the epitome of this 

The doctrine of categories will involve not only the greater part 
of formal and symbolic logic, but will undoubtedly carry the logician 
into the doctrine of method. Here it is to be hoped that recent 
tendencies will result in effectively breaking down the artificial dis- 
tinctions which have prevailed between deduction and induction. 
Differences in method do not result from differences in points of de- 
parture, or between the universal and the particular, but from the 
categories, again, which give the method direction and aim, and 
result in different types of synthesis. In this direction, the logician 
may hope for an approximately correct classification of the various 
departments of knowledge. Such a classification is, perhaps, the 
ideal of logical theory. 



(Hall 6, September 22, 3 p. m.) 


SECRETARY: DR. R. B. PERRY, Harvard University. 


(Translated from the German by Dr. R. M. Yerkes, Harvard University) 

[Wilhelm Ostwald, Professor of Physical Chemistry, University of Leipzig, 
since 1887. b. September 2, 1853, Riga, Russia. Grad. Candidate Chemistry, 
1877; Master Chemistry, 1878; Doctor Chemistry, Dorpat. Dr. Hon. 
Halle and Cambridge; Privy Councilor; Assistant, Dorpat, 1875-81; 
Regular Professor, Riga, 1881-87. Member various learned and scientific 
societies. Author of Manual of General Chemistry; Electro Chemistry; Foun- 
dation of Inorganic Chemistry; Lectures on Philosophy of Nature; Artist's 
Letters; Essays and Lectures; and many other noted works and papers on 
Chemistry and Philosophy.] 

ONE of the few points on which the philosophy of to-day is united is 
the knowledge that the only thing completely certain and undoubted 
for each one is the content of his own consciousness; and here the 
certainty is to be ascribed not to the content of consciousness in 
general, but only to the momentary content. 

This momentary content we divide into two large groups, which 
we refer to the inner and outer world. If we call any kind of content 
of consciousness an experience, then we ascribe to the outer world 
such experiences as arise without the activity of our will and cannot 
be called forth by its activity alone. Such experiences never arise 
without the activity of certain parts of our body, which we call 
sense organs. In other words, the outer world is that which reaches 
our consciousness through the senses. 

On the other hand, we ascribe to our inner world all experiences 
which arise without the immediate assistance of a sense organ. 
Here, first of all, belong all experiences which we call remembering 
and thinking. An exact and complete differentiation of the two 
territories is not intended here, for our purpose does not demand 
that this task be undertaken. For this purpose the general orienta- 
tion in which every one recognizes familiar facts of his consciousness 
is sufficient. 

Each experience has the characteristic of uniqueness. None of us 
doubts that the expression of the poet " Everything is only repeated 
in life " is really just the opposite of the truth, and that in fact no- 


thing is repeated in life. But to express such a judgment we must 
be in position to compare different experiences with each other, and 
this possibility rests upon a fundamental phenomenon of our con- 
sciousness, memory. Memory alone enables us to put various ex- 
periences in relation to each other, so that the question as to their 
likeness or difference can be asked. 

We find the simpler relations here in the inner experiences. A 
certain thought, such as twice two is four, I can bring up in my 
consciousness as often as I wish, and in addition to the content of 
the thought I experience the further consciousness that I have 
already had this thought before, that it is familiar to me. 

A similar but somewhat more complex phenomenon appears in 
the experiences in which the outer world takes part. After I have 
eaten an apple, I can repeat the experience in two ways. First, as 
an inner experience, I can remember that I have eaten the apple 
and by an effort of my will I can re-create in myself, although with 
diminished strength and intensity, a part of the former experience 
- the part which belonged to my inner world. Another part, the 
sense impression which belonged to that experience, I cannot re-create 
by an effort of my will, but I must again eat an apple in order to 
have a similar experience of this sort. This is a complete repetition 
of the experience to which the external world also contributes. 
Such a repetition does not depend altogether on my own powers, 
for it is necessary that I have an apple, that is, that certain condi- 
tions which are independent of me and belong to the outer world 
be fulfilled. 

Whether the outer world takes part in the repetition of an experi- 
ence or not has no influence upon the possibility of the content of 
consciousness which we call memory. From this it follows that this 
content depends upon the inner experience alone, and that we 
remember an external event only by means of its inner constituents. 
The mere repetition of corresponding sense impressions is not suffi- 
cient for this, for we can see the same person repeatedly without 
recognizing him, if the inner accompanying phenomena were so 
insignificant, as a result of lack of interest, that their repetition 
does not produce the content of consciousness known as memory. 
If we see him quite frequently, the frequent repetition of the exter- 
nal impression finally causes the memory of the corresponding inner 

From this it results that for the " memory "-reaction a certain 
intensity of the inner experience is necessary. This threshold can be 
attained either at once or by continued repetition. The repetitions 
are the more effective the more rapidly they follow each other. 
From this we may conclude that the memory- value of an experience, 
or its capacity for calling forth the " memory "-reaction by repetition, 


decreases with the lapse of time. Further, we must consider the 
fact mentioned above, that an experience is never exactly repeated, 
and that therefore the " memory "-reaction occurs even where there 
is only resemblance or partial agreement in place of complete agree- 
ment. Here, too, there are different degrees; memory takes place 
more easily the more perfectly the two experiences agree, and vice 

If we look at these phenomena from the physiological side, we 
may say we have two kinds of apparatus or organs, one of which 
does not depend upon our will, whereas the other does. The former 
are the sense organs, the latter constitutes the organ of thought. 
Only the activities of the latter constitute our experiences or the 
content of our consciousness. 

The activities of the former may call forth the corresponding pro- 
cesses of the latter, but this is not always necessary. Our sense organs 
can be influenced without our "noticing" it, that is, without the 
thinking apparatus being involved. An especially important reaction 
of the thinking apparatus is memory, that is, the consciousness that 
an experience which we have just had possesses more or less agreement 
with former experiences. With reference to the organ of thought, 
it is the expression of the general physiological fact that every process 
influences the organ in such a way that it has a different relation to 
the repetition of this process, from the first time, and moreover that 
the repetition is rendered easier. This influence decreases with time. 

It is chiefly upon these phenomena that experience rests. Experi- 
ence results from the fact that all events consist of a complete series of 
simultaneous and successive components. When a connection between 
some of those parts has become familiar to us by the repetition of 
similar occurrences (for instance, the succession of day and night), we 
do not feel such an occurrence as something completely new, but as 
something partially familiar, and the single parts or phases of it do 
not surprise us, but rather we anticipate their coming or expect 
them. From expectation to prediction is only a short step, and so 
experience enables us to prophesy the future from the past and pre- 

Now this is also the road to science; for science is nothing but 
systematized experience, that is, experience reduced to its simplest 
and clearest forms. Its purposes to predict from a part of a phe- 
nomenon which is known another part which is not yet known. 
Here it may be a question of spatial as well as of temporal phenom- 
ena. Thus the scientific zoologist knows how to "determine," that 
is, to tell, from the skull of an animal, the nature of the other parts 
of the animal to which the skull belongs; likewise the astronomer 
is able to indicate the future situation of a planet from a few obser- 
vations of its present situation; and the more exact the first obser- 


rations were, the more distant the future for which he can predict. 
All such scientific predictions are limited, therefore, with reference to 
their number and their accuracy. If the skull shown to the zoologist 
is that of a chicken, then he will probably be able to indicate the 
general characteristics of chickens, and also perhaps whether the 
chicken had a top-knot or not; but not its color, and only uncertainly 
its age and its size. Both facts, the possibility of prediction and its 
limitation in content and amount, are an expression for the two 
fundamental facts, that among our experiences there is similarity, 
but not complete agreement. 

The foregoing considerations deserve to be discussed and extended 
in several directions. First, the objection will be made that a chicken 
or a planet is not an experience; we call them rather by the most 
general name of thing. But our knowledge of the chicken begins 
with the experiencing of certain visual impressions, to which are 
added, perhaps, certain impressions of hearing and touch. The 
sight impressions (to discuss these first) by no means completely 
agree. We see the chicken large or small, according to the distance; 
and according to its position and movement its outline is very differ- 
ent. As we have seen, however, these differences are continually 
grading into one other and do not reach beyond certain limits; we 
neglect to observe them and rest contented with the fact that certain 
other peculiarities (legs, wings, eyes, bill, comb, etc.) remain and do 
not change. The constant properties we group together as a thing, 
and the changing ones we call the states of this thing. Among the 
changing properties, we distinguish further those which depend 
upon us (for example, the distance) and those upon which we have 
no immediate influence (for instance, the position or motion): the 
first is called the subjective changeable part of our experience, while 
the second is called the objective mutability of the thing. 

This omission of both the subjectively and objectively changeable 
portion of the experience in connection with the retention of the 
constant portion and the gathering together of the latter into a 
unity is one of the most important operations which we perform 
with our experiences. We call it the process of abstraction, and its 
product, the permanent unity, we call a concept. Plainly this pro- 
cedure contains arbitrary as well as necessary factors. Arbitrary or 
accidental is the circumstance that quite different phases of a given 
experience come to consciousness according to our attention, the 
amount of practice we have had, indeed according to our whole 
intellectual nature. We may overlook constant factors and attend 
to changeable ones. The objective factors, however, become neces- 
sary as soon as we have noticed them; after we have seen that the 
chicken is black, it is not in our power to see it red. Accordingly, in 
general, our knowledge of that which agrees must be less than it 


actually could be, since we have not been able to observe every 
agreement, and our concept is always poorer in constituents at any 
given time than it might be. To seek out such elements of concepts 
as have been overlooked, and to prove that they are necessary factors 
of the corresponding experiences, is one of the never-ending tasks 
of science. The other case, namely, that elements have been received 
in the concept which do not prove to be constant, also happens, and 
leads to another task. One can then leave that element out of the 
concept, if further experiences show that the other elements are 
found in them, or one can form a new concept which contains the 
former elements, leaving out those that have been recognized as 
unessential. For a long time the white color belonged to the concept 
swan. When the Dutch black swans became known, it was possible 
either to drop the element white from the concept swan (as actually 
happened), or to make a new concept for the bird which is similar 
to the swan but black. Which choice is made in a given case is largely 
arbitrary, and is determined by considerations of expediency. 

Into the formation of concepts, therefore, two factors are operat- 
ive, an objective empirical factor, and a subjective or purposive 
factor. The fitness of a concept is seen in relation to its purpose, 
which we shall now consider. 

The purpose of a concept is its use for prediction. The old logic 
set up the syllogism as the type of thought-activity, and its simplest 
example is the well-known 

All men are mortal, 
Caius is a man, 
Therefore Caius is mortal. 

In general, the scheme runs 

To the concept M belongs the element B, 
C belongs under the concept M, 
Therefore the element B is found in C. 

One can say that this method of reasoning is in regular use even 
to this day. It must be added, however, that this use is of a quite 
different nature from that of the ancients. Whereas formerly the 
setting up of the first proposition or the major premise was con- 
sidered the most important thing, and the establishment of the 
second proposition or minor premise was thought to be a rather 
trifling matter, now the relation is reversed. The major premise con- 
tains the description of a concept, the minor makes the assertion 
that a certain thing belongs under this concept. What right exists 
for such an assertion? The most palpable reply would be, since 
all the elements of the concept M (including B) are found in C, C 
belongs under the concept M. Such a conclusion would indeed be 
binding, but at the same time quite worthless, for it only repeats the 


minor premise. Actually the method of reasoning is essentially 
different, for the minor premise is not obtained by showing that all 
the elements of the concept M are found in C, but only some of them. 
The conclusion is not necessary, but only probable, and the whole 
process of reasoning runs : Certain elements are frequently found to- 
gether, therefore they are united in the concept M. Certain of these 
elements are recognized in the thing C, therefore probably the other 
elements of the concept M will be found in C. 

The old logic, also, was familiar with this kind of conclusion. It 
was branded, however, as the worst of all, by the name of incomplete 
induction, since the absolute certainty demanded of the syllogism 
did not belong to its results. One must admit, however, that the whole 
of modern science makes use of no other form of reasoning than 
incomplete induction, for it alone admits of a prediction, that is, an 
indication of relations which have not been immediately observed. 

How does science get along with the defective certainty of this 
process of reasoning? The answer is, that the probability of the 
conclusion can run through all degrees from mere conjecture to the 
maximum probability, which is practically indistinguishable from 
certainty. The probability is the greater the more frequently an 
incomplete induction of this kind has proven correct in later experi- 
ence. Accordingly we have at our command a number of expressions 
which in their simplest and most general form have the appearance : 
If an element A is met within a thing, then the element B is also 
found in it (in spatial or temporal relationship). 

If the relation is temporal, this general statement is known by 
some such name as the law of causality. If it is spatial, one talks of 
the idea (in the Platonic sense), or the type of the thing, of substance, 

From the considerations here presented we get an easy answer 
to many questions which are frequently discussed in very different 
senses. First, the question concerning the general validity of the 
law of causality. All attempts to prove such a validity have failed, 
and there has remained only the indication that without this law 
we should feel an unbearable uncertainty in reference to the world. 
From this, however, we see very plainly that here it is merely a 
question of expediency. From the continuous flux of our experiences 
we hunt out those groups which can always be found again, in order 
to be able to conclude that if the element A is given, the element B 
will be present. We do not find this relationship as "given," but 
we put it into our experiences, in that we consider the parts which 
correspond to the relationship as belonging together. 

The very same thing may be said of spatial complexes. Such factors 
as are always, or at any rate often, found together are taken by us as 
" belonging together," and out of them a concept is formed which 


embraces these factors. A question as to the why has here, as with 
the temporal complexes, no definite meaning. There are countless 
things that happen together once to which we pay no attention 
because they happen only once or but seldom. The knowledge 
of the fact that such a single concurrence exists amounts to nothing, 
since from the presence of one factor it does not lead to a conclusion 
as to the presence of another, and therefore does not make possible 
prediction. Of all the possible, and even actual combinations, only 
those interest us which are repeated, and this arbitrary but expedient 
selection produces the impression that the world consists only of 
combinations that can be repeated ; that, in other words, the law of 
causality or of the type is a general one. However general or limited 
application these laws have, is more a question of our skill in finding 
the constant combinations among those that are present than a ques- 
tion of objective natural fact. 

Thus we see the development and pursuit of all sciences going on in 
such a way that on the one hand more and more constant combina- 
tions are discovered, and on the other hand more inclusive relations 
of this kind are found out, by means of which elements are united 
with each other which before no one had even tried to bring together. 
So sciences are increasing both in the sense of an increasing complica- 
tion and in an increasing unification. 

If we consider from this standpoint the development and procedure 
of the various sciences, we find a rational division of the sum total of 
science in the question as to the scope and multiplicity of the com- 
binations or groups treated of in them. These two properties are in 
a certain sense antithetical. The simpler a complex is, that is, the 
fewer elements brought together in it, the more frequently it is met 
with, and vice versa. One can therefore arrange all the sciences in 
such a way that one begins with the least multiplicity and the greatest 
scope, and ends with the greatest multiplicity and the least scope. 
The first science will be the most general, and will therefore contain 
the most general and therefore the most barren concepts; the last 
will contain the most specific and therefore the richest. 

What are these limiting concepts? The most general is the concept 
of thing, that is, any piece of experience, seized arbitrarily from the 
flux of our experiences, which can be repeated. The most specific 
and richest is the concept of human intercourse. Between the science 
of things and the science of human intercourse, all the other sciences 
are found arranged in regular gradation. If one follows out the 
scheme the following outline results: 

1. Theory of order. "] 

2. Theory of numbers, or arithmetic. I ,, , 

. . > Matnematics. 

3. Theory of time. 

4. Theory of space, or geometry. 


5. Mechanics, ^j 

6. Physics. V Energetics. 

7. Chemistry. J 

8. Physiology. } 

9. Psychology. V Biology. 
10. Sociology. J 

This table is arbitrary in so far as the grades assumed can be 
increased or diminished according to need. For example, mechanics 
and physics could be taken together; or between physics and chem- 
istry, physical chemistry could be inserted. Likewise between 
physiology and psychology, anthropology might find a place; or the 
first five sciences might be united under mathematics. How one 
makes these divisions is entirely a practical question, which will be 
answered at any time in accordance with the purposes of division; 
and dispute concerning the matter is almost useless. 

I should like, however, to call attention to the three great groups 
of mathematics, energetics, and biology (in the wider sense). They 
represent the decisive regulative thought which humanity has 
evolved, contributed up to this time, toward the scientific mastery of 
its experiences. Arrangement is the fundamental thought of mathe- 
matics. From mechanics to chemistry the concept of energy is the 
most important; and for the last three sciences it is the concept of 
life. Mathematics, energetics, and biology, therefore, embrace the 
totality of the sciences. 

Before we enter upon the closer consideration of these sciences, it 
will be well to anticipate another objection which can be raised on the 
basis of the following fact. Besides the sciences named (and those 
which lie between them) there are many others, as geology, history, 
medicine, philology, which we find difficulty in arranging in the above 
scheme, which must, however, be taken into consideration in some 
way or other. They are often characterized by the fact that they 
stand in relation with several of the sciences named, but even more 
by the following circumstance. Their task is not, as is true of the 
pure sciences above named, the discovery of general relationships, 
but they relate rather to existing complex objects whose origin, 
scope, extent, etc., in short, whose temporal and spatial relationships 
they have to discover or to "explain." For this purpose they make 
use of relations which are placed at their disposal by the first-named 
pure sciences. These sciences, therefore, had better be called applied 
sciences. However, in this connection we should not think only or 
even chiefly of technical applications; rather the expression is used 
to indicate that the reciprocal relations of the parts of an object are 
to be called to mind by the application of the general rules found in 
pure scJence. 

While in such a task the abstraction process of pure science is 


not applicable (for the omission of certain parts and the concentra- 
tion upon others which is characteristic of these is excluded by the 
nature of the task), yet in a given case usually the necessity of bringing 
in various pure sciences for the purpose of explanation is evident. 

Astronomy is one of these applied sciences. Primarily it rests upon 
mechanics, and in its instrumental portion, upon optics; in its 
present development on the spectroscopic side, however, it borrows 
considerably of chemistry. In like manner history is applied sociology 
and psychology. Medicine makes use of all the sciences before men- 
tioned, up to psychology, etc. 

It is important to get clearly in mind the nature of these sciences, 
since, on account of their compound nature, they resist arrangement 
amongst the pure sciences, while, on account of their practical 
significance, they still demand consideration. The latter fact gives 
them also a sort of arbitrary or accidental character, since their 
development is largely conditioned by the special needs of the time. 
Their number, speaking in general, is very large, since each pure 
science may be turned into an applied science in various ways; and 
since in addition we have combinations of two, three, or more sciences. 
Moreover, the method of procedure in the applied sciences is funda- 
mentally different from that in the pure sciences. In the first it is 
a question of the greatest possible analysis of a single given complex 
into its scientifically comprehensible parts; while pure science, on 
the other hand, considers many complexes together in order to 
separate out from them their common element, but expressly dis- 
claims the complete analysis of a single complex. 

In scientific work, as it appears in practice, pure and applied 
science are by no means sharply separated. On the one hand the 
auxiliaries of investigations, such as apparatus, books, etc., demand 
of the pure investigator knowledge and application in applied science; 
and, on the other hand, the applied scientist is frequently unable to 
accomplish his task unless he himself becomes for the time being 
a pure investigator and ascertains or discovers the missing general 
relationships which he needs for his task. A separation and differentia- 
tion of the two forms of science was necessary, however, since the 
method and the aim of each present essential differences. 

In order to consider the method of procedure of pure science more 
carefully, let us turn back to the table on pages 339, 340, and attend to 
the single sciences separately. The theory of arrangement was men- 
tioned first, although this place is usually assigned to mathematics. 
However, mathematics has to do with the concepts of number and 
magnitude as fundamentals, while the theory of arrangement does 
not make use of these. Here the fundamental concept is rather the 
thing or object of which nothing more is demanded or considered 
than that it is a fragment of our experience which can be isolated and 


will remain so. It must not be an arbitrary combination; such a 
thing would have only momentary duration, and the task of science, 
to learn the unknown from the given, could not find application. 
Rather must this element have such a nature that it can be charac- 
terized and recognized again, that is, it must already have a concept- 
ual nature. Therefore only parts of our experience which can be 
repeated (which alone can be objects of science) can be characterized 
as things or objects. But in saying this we have said all that was 
demanded of them. In other respects they may be just as different 
as is conceivable. 

If the question is asked, What can be said scientifically about 
indefinite things of this sort? it is especially the relations of arrange- 
ment and association which yield an answer. If we call any definite 
combination of such things a group, we can arrange such a group 
in different ways, that is, we can determine for each thing the relation 
in which it is to stand to the neighboring thing. From every such 
arrangement result not only the relationships indicated, but a great 
number of new ones, and it appears that when the first relationships 
are given the others always follow in like manner. This, however, 
is the type of the scientific proposition or natural law (page 335). 
From the presence of certain relations of arrangement we can deduce 
the presence of others which we have not yet demonstrated. 

To illustrate this fact by an example, let us think of the things 
arranged in a simple row, while we choose one thing as a first member 
and associate another with it as following it ; with the latter another 
is associated, etc. Thereby the position of each thing in the row is 
determined only in relation to the immediately preceding thing. 
Nevertheless, the position of every member in the whole row, and 
therefore its relation to every other member, is determined by this. 
This is seen in a number of special law r s. If we differentiate former 
and latter members we can formulate the proposition, among others, 
if B is a later member with reference to A, and C with reference to 
B, then C is also a later member with reference to A. 

The correctness and validity of this proposition seems to us beyond 
all doubt. But this is only a result of the fact that we are able to 
demonstrate it very easily in countless single cases, and have so 
demonstrated it. We know only cases which correspond to the 
proposition, and have never experienced a contradictory case. To call 
such a proposition, however, a necessity of thinking, does not appear 
to me correct. For the expression necessity of thinking can only rest 
upon the fact that every time the proposition is thought, that is, every 
time one remembers its demonstration, its confirmation always arises. 
But every sort of false proposition is also thinkable. An undeniable 
proof of this is the fact that so much which is false is actually thought. 
But to base the proof for the correctness of a proposition upon the 


impossibility of thinking its opposite is an impossible undertaking, 
because every sort of nonsense can be thought : where the proof was 
thought to have been given, there has always been a confusion of 
thought and intuition, proof or inspection. 

With this one proposition of course the theory of order is not 
exhausted, for here it is not a question of the development of this 
theory, but of an example of the nature of the problems of science. 
Of the further questions we shall briefly discuss the problem of 

If we have two groups A and B given, one can associate with every 
member of A one of B; that is, we determine that certain operations 
which can be carried on with the members of A are also to be carried 
on with those of B. Now we can begin by simply carrying out the 
association, member for member. Then we shall have one of three 
results: A will be exhausted while there are still members of B left, 
or B will be exhausted first, or finally A and B will be exhausted at 
the same time. In the first case we call A poorer than B; in the second 
B poorer than A; in the third both quantities are alike. 

Here for the first time we come upon the scientific concept of 
equality, which calls for discussion. There can be no question of a 
complete identity of the two groups which have been denominated 
equal, for we have made the assumption that the members of both 
groups can be of any nature whatever. They can then be as different 
as possible, considered singly, but they are alike as groups. However 
I may arrange the members of A, I can make a similar arrangement 
of the members of B, since every member of A has one of B associated 
with it; and with reference to the property of arrangement there is no 
difference to be observed between A and B. If, however, A is poorer 
or richer than B, this possibility ceases, for then one of the groups 
has members to which none of the members in the other group cor- 
responds; so that the operations carried out with these members 
cannot be carried out with those of the other group. 

Equality in the scientific sense, therefore, means equivalence, 
or the possibility of substitution in quite definite operations or for 
quite definite relations. Beyond this the things which are called 
like may show any differences whatever. The general scientific 
process of abstraction is again easily seen in this special case. 

On the basis of the definitions just given, we can establish further 
propositions. If group A equals B, and B equals C, then A also 
equals C. The proof of this is that we can relate every member 
of A to a corresponding member of B and by hypothesis no 
member will be left. Then C is arranged with reference to B, and 
here also no member is left. By this process every member of A, 
through the connecting link of a member of B, is associated with 
a member of C, and this association is preserved even if we cut out 


the group B. Therefore A and C are equal. The same process of 
reasoning can be carried out for any number of groups. 

Likewise it can be demonstrated that if A is poorer than B and B 
poorer than C, then A is also poorer than C. For in the association 
of B with A some members of B are left over by hypothesis, and 
likewise some members of C are left over if one associates C with B. 
Therefore in the association of C with A, not only those members are 
left over which could not be associated with B, but also those mem- 
bers of C which extend beyond B. This proposition can be extended 
to any number of groups, and permits the arrangement of a number 
of different groups in a simple series by beginning with the poorest 
and choosing each following so that it is richer than the preceding 
but poorer than the following. From the proposition just established, 
it follows that every group is so arranged with reference to all other 
groups that it is richer than all the preceding and poorer than all the 
following. 1 

In this derivation of scientific proposition or laws of the simplest 
kinds, the process of derivation and the nature of the result becomes 
particularly clear. We arrive at such a proposition by performing 
an operation and expressing the result of it. This expression enables 
us to avoid the repetition of the operation in the future, since in 
accordance with the law we can indicate the result immediately. 
Thus an abbreviation and therefore a facilitation of the problem is 
attained which is the more considerable the larger the number of 
operations saved. 

If we have a number of equal groups, we know by the process of 
association that all of the operations with reference to arrangement 
which we can perform with one of them can be performed with all the 
others. It is sufficient, therefore, to determine the properties of 
arrangement of one of these groups in order to know forthwith the 
properties of all the others. This is an extremely important pro- 
position, which is continually employed for the most various purposes. 
All speaking, writing, and reading rests upon the association of 
thoughts with sounds and symbols, and by arranging the signs in 
accordance with our thoughts we bring it to pass that our hearers 
or readers think like thoughts in like order. In a similar fashion we 
make use of various systems of formulae in the different sciences, 
especially in the simpler sciences; and these formulae we correlate 
with phenomena and use in place of the phenomena themselves, 
and can therefore derive from them certain characteristics of phe- 
nomena without being compelled to use the latter. The force of this 
process appears very strikingly in astronomy where, by the use of 
definite formulae associated with the different heavenly bodies, we 

1 Equal groups cannot be distinguished here, and therefore represent only a 


can foretell the future positions of these bodies with a high degree of 

From the theory of order we come to the theory of number or 
arithmetic by the systematic arrangement or development of an 
operation just indicated (page 343). We can arrange any number of 
groups in such a way that a richer always follows a poorer. But the 
complex obtained in this manner is always accidental with reference 
to the number and the richness of its members. A regular and com- 
plete structure of all possible groups is evidently obtained only if 
we start from a group of one member or from a simple thing, and by 
the addition of one member at a time make further groups out of 
those that we have. Thus we obtain different groups arranged ac- 
cording to an increasing richness, and since we have advanced one 
member at a time, that is, made the smallest step which is possible, 
we are certain that we have left out no possible group which is poorer 
than the richest to which the operation has been carried. 

This whole process is familiar; it gives the series of the positive 
whole number's, that is, the cardinal numbers. It is to be noted that 
the concept of quantity has not yet been considered; what we have 
gained is the concept of number. The single things or members in 
this number are quite arbitrary, and especially they do not need to 
be alike in any manner. Every number forms a group-type, and 
arithmetic or the science of numbers has the task of investigating 
the properties of these different types with reference to their division 
and combination. If this is done in general form, without attention 
to the special amount of the number, the corresponding science is 
called algebra. On the other hand, by the application of formal rules 
of formation, the number system has had one extension after another 
beyond the territory of its original validity. Thus counting back- 
ward led to zero and to the negative numbers; the inversion of 
involution to the imaginary numbers. For the group-type of the 
positive w r hole numbers is the simplest but by no means the only 
possible one, and for the purpose of representing other manifolds 
than those which are met with in experience, these new types have 
proved themselves very useful. 

At the same time the number series gives us an extremely useful 
type of arrangement. In the process of arising it is already ordered, 
and we make use of it for the purpose of arranging other groups. 
Thus, we are accustomed to furnish the pages in a book, the seats in a 
theatre, and countless other groups which we wish to make use of in 
any kind of order with the signs of the number series, and thereby 
we make the tacit assumption that the use of that corresponding 
group shall take place in the same order as the natural numbers 
follow each other. The ordinal numbers arising therefrom do not 
represent quantities, nor do they represent the only possible type 


of arrangement, but they are again the simplest of all. We come 
to the concept of magnitude only in the theory of time and space. 
The theory of time has not been developed as a special science; on 
the contrary, what we have to say about time first appears in me- 
chanics. Meantime we can present the fundamental concepts, which 
arise in this connection, with reference to such well-known charac- 
teristics of time that the lack of a special science of time is no dis- 

The first and most important characteristic of time (and of space, 
too) is that it is a continuous manifold; that is, every portion of 
time chosen can be divided at any place whatever. In the number 
series this is not the case; it can be divided only between the single 
numbers. The series one to ten has only nine places of division and 
no more. A minute, or a second, on the other hand, has an unlimited 
number of places of division. In other words, there is nothing in the 
lapse of any time which hinders us from separating or distinguishing 
in thought at any given instant the time which has elapsed till then 
from the following time. It is just the same with space, except that 
time is a simple manifold and space a threefold, continuous manifold. 

Nevertheless, when we measure them, we are accustomed to indicate 
times and spaces with numbers. If we first examine, for example, the 
process of measuring a length, it consists in our applying to the dis- 
tance to be measured a length conceived as unchangeable, the unit 
of measure, until we have passed over the distance. The number of 
these applications gives us the measure or magnitude of the distance. 
The result is that by the indication of arbitrarily chosen points upon 
the continuous distance, we place upon it an artificial discontinuity 
which enables us to associate it with the discontinuous number series. 

A still further assumption, however, belongs to the concept of 
measuring, namely, that the parts of the distance cut off by the unit 
used as a measure be equal, and it is taken for granted that this 
requirement will be fulfilled to whatever place the unit of measure 
is shifted. As may be seen, this is a definition of equality carried 
further than the former, for one cannot actually replace a part of 
the distance by another in order to convince one's self that it has 
not changed. Just as little can one assert or prove that the unit of 
measure in changing its place in space remains of the same !cr>gth; 
we can only say that such distances as are determined by the unit of 
measure in different places are declared or defined as equal. Actually, 
for our eye, the unit of measure becomes smaller in perspective the 
farther away from it we find ourselves. 

From this example we see again the great contribution which 
arbitrariness or free choice has made to all our structure of science. 
We could develop a geometry in which distances which seem sub- 
jectively equal to our eye are called equal, and upon this assumption 


we would be able to develop a self-consistent system or science. Such 
a geometry, however, would have an extremely complex and imprac- 
tical structure for objective purposes (as, for example, land meas- 
urement), and so we strive to develop a science as free as possible 
from subjective factors. Historically, we have before us a process of 
this sort in the astronomy of Ptolemy and that of Copernicus. The 
former corresponded to the subjective appearances in the assumption 
that all heavenly bodies revolved around the earth, but proved to be 
very complicated when confronted with the task of mastering these 
movements with figures. The latter gave up the subjective stand- 
point of the observer, who looked upon himself as the centre, and 
attained a tremendous simplification by placing the centre of revo- 
lution in the sun. 

A few words are to be said here about the application of arithmetic 
and algebra to geometry. It is well known that under definite 
assumptions (coordinates), geometrical figures can be represented 
by means of algebraic formulae, so that the geometrical properties 
of the figure can be deduced from the arithmetical properties of the 
formulae, and vice versa. The question must be asked how such a 
close and univocal relationship is possible between things of such 
different nature. The answer is, that here is an especially clear case 
of association. The manifold of numbers is much greater than that of 
surface or space, for while the latter are determined by two or three in- 
dependent measurements, one can .have any number of independent 
number series working together. Therefore the manifold of numbers 
is arbitrarily limited to two or three independent series, and in so 
far determines their mutual relations (by means of the laws of cosine) 
that there results a manifold, corresponding to the spatial, which can 
be completely associated with the spatial manifold. Then we have 
two manifolds of the same manifold character, and all characteristics 
of arrangement and size of the one find their likeness in the other. 

This again characterizes an extremely important scientific pro- 
cedure which consists, namely, in constructing a formal manifold for 
the content of experience of a certain field, to which one attributes 
the same manifold character which the former possesses. Every 
science reaches by this means a sort of formal language of correspond- 
ing completeness, which depends upon how accurately the manifold 
character of the object is recognized and how judiciously the formulse 
have been chosen. While in arithmetic and algebra this task has been 
performed fairly well (though by no means absolutely perfectly), the 
chemical formulse, for instance, express only a relatively small part 
of the manifold to be represented; and in biology as far as sociology, 
scarcely the first attempts have been made in the accomplishment of 
this task. 

Language especially serves as such a universal manifold to repre- 


sent the manifolds of experience. As a result of its development 
from a time of less culture, it has by no means sufficient regularity 
and completeness to accomplish its purpose adequately and con- 
veniently. Rather, it is just as unsystematic as the events in the 
lives of single peoples have been, and the necessity of expressing 
the endlessly different particulars of daily life has only allowed it to 
develop so that the correspondence between word and concept is 
kept rather indefinite and changeable, according to need within 
somewhat wide limits. Thus all work in those sciences which must 
make vital use of these means, as especially psychology and sociology, 
or philosophy in general, is made extremely difficult by the ceaseless 
struggle with the indefiniteness and ambiguity of language. An 
improvement of this condition can be effected only by introducing 
signs in place of words for the representation of concepts, as the 
progress of science allows it, and equipping these signs with the 
manifold which from experience belongs to the concept. 

An intermediate position in this respect is taken by the sciences 
which were indicated above as parts of energetics. In this realm 
there is added to the concepts order, number, size, space, and time, 
a new concept, that of energy, which finds application to every 
single phenomenon in this whole field, just as do those' more general 
concepts. This is due to the fact that a certain quantity, which 
is known to us most familiarly as mechanical work, on account of 
its qualitative transformability and quantitative constancy, can 
be shown to be a constituent of every physical phenomenon, that 
is, every phenomenon which belongs to the field of mechanics, 
physics, and chemistry. In other words, one can perfectly character- 
ize every physical event by indicating what amounts and kinds of 
energy have been present in it and into what energies they have 
been transformed. Accordingly, it is logical to designate the so- 
called physical phenomena as energetical. 

That such a conception is possible is now generally admitted. 
On the other hand, its expediency is frequently questioned, and there 
is at present so much the more reason for this because a thorough 
presentation of the physical sciences in the energetical sense has not 
yet been made. If one applies to this question the criterion of the 
scientific system given above, the completeness of the correspondence 
between the representing manifold and that to be represented, there 
is no doubt that all previous systematizations in the form of hypo- 
theses which have been tried in these sciences are defective in this 
respect. Formerly, for the purpose of representing experiences, 
manifolds whose character corresponded to the character of the 
manifold to be represented only in certain salient points without 
consideration of any rigid agreement, indeed, even without definite 
question as to such an agreement, have been employed. 


The energetical conception admits of that definiteness of represen- 
tation which the condition of science demands and renders possible. 
For each special manifold character of the field a special kind of 
energy presents itself: science has long distinguished mechanical, 
electric, thermal, chemical, etc., energies. All of these different 
kinds hold together by the law of transformation with the mainten- 
ance of the quantitative amount, and in so far are united. On the 
other hand, it has been possible to fix upon the corresponding ener- 
getical expression for every empirically discovered manifold. As a 
future system of united energetics, we have then a table of possible 
manifolds of which energy is capable. In this we must keep in mind 
the fact that, in accordance with the law of the conservation, energy 
is a necessarily positive quantity which also is furnished with the 
property of unlimited possibility of addition; therefore, every par- 
ticular kind of energy must have this character. 

The very small manifold which seems to lack this condition is 
much widened by the fact that every kind of energy can be separ- 
ated into two factors, which are only subject to the limitation that 
their product, the energy, fulfills the conditions mentioned while 
they themselves are much freer. For example, one factor of a kind of 
energy can become negative as well as positive; it is only necessary 
that at the same time the other factor should become negative, 
viz., positive. 

Thus it seems possible to make a table of all possible forms of 
energy, by attributing all thinkable manifold characteristics to the 
factors of the energy and then combining them by pairs and cutting 
out those products which do not fulfill the above-mentioned con- 
ditions. For a number of years I have tried from time to time to 
carry out this programme, but I have not yet got far enough to 
justify publication of the results obtained. 

If we turn to the biological sciences, in them the phenomenon of life 
appears to us as new. If we stick to the observed facts, keeping our- 
selves free from all hypotheses, we observe as the general characteris- 
tics of the phenomena of life the continuous stream of energy which 
courses through a relatively constant structure. Change of substance 
is only a part, although a very important part, of this stream. Espe- 
cially in plants we can observe at first hand the great importance of 
energy in its most incorporeal form, the sun's rays. Along with this, 
self-preservation and development and reproduction, the begetting 
of offspring of like nature, are characteristic. All of these properties 
must be present in order that an organism may come into existence ; 
they must also be present if the reflecting man is to be able by 
repeated experience to form a concept of any definite organism, 
whether of a lion or of a mushroom. Other organisms are met with 
which do not fulfill these conditions; on account of their rarity, how- 


ever, they do not lead to a species concept, but are excluded from 
scientific consideration (except for special purposes) as deformities or 

While organisms usually work with kinds of energy which we know 
well from the inorganic world, organs are found in the higher forms 
which without doubt cause or assist transfers of energy, but we 
cannot yet say definitely what particular kind of energy is active in 
them. These organs are called nerves, and their function is regularly 
that, after certain forms of energy have acted upon one end of them, 
they should act at the other end and release the energies stored up 
there which then act in their special manner. That energetical 
transformations also take place in the nerve during the process of 
nervous transmission can be looked upon as demonstrated. We 
shall thus be justified in speaking of a nerve energy, while leaving it 
undecided whether there is here an energy of a particular kind, or 
perhaps chemical energy, or finally a combination of several energies. 

While these processes can be shown objectively by the stimulation 
of the nerve and its corresponding releasing reaction in the end 
apparatus (for instance, a muscle), we find in ourselves, connected 
with certain nervous processes, a phenomenon of a new sort which 
we call self-consciousness. From the agreement of our reactions 
with those of other people we conclude wdth scientific probability 
that they also have self-consciousness; and we are justified in making 
the same conclusion with regard to some higher animals. How far 
down something similar to this is present cannot be determined by 
the means at hand, since the analogy of organization and of behavior 
diminishes very quickly; but the line is probably not very long, in 
view of the great leap from man to animal. Moreover, there are many 
reasons for the view that the gray cortical substance in the brain, 
with its characteristic pyramidal cell, is the anatomical substratum 
of this kind of nervous activity. 

The study of the processes of self-consciousness constitutes the chief 
task of psychology. To this science belong those fields which are gener- 
ally allotted to philosophy, especially logic and epistemology, while aes- 
thetics, and still more ethics, are to be reckoned with the social sciences. 

The latter have to do with living beings in so far as they can be 
united in groups with common functions. Here in place of the indi- 
vidual mind appears a collective mind, which owing to the adjust- 
ment of the differences of the members of society shows simpler 
conditions than that. From this comes especially the task of the 
historical sciences. The happenings in the world accessible to us are 
conditioned partly by physical, partly by psychological factors, and 
both show a temporal mutability in one direction. Thus arises on 
the one hand a history of heaven and earth, on the other hand a 
history of organisms up to man. 


All history has primarily the task of fixing past events through the 
effects which have remained from them. Where such are not access- 
ible, only analogy is left, a very doubtful means for gaining a concep- 
tion of those events. But it must be kept in mind that an event which 
has left no evident traces has no sort of interest for us, for our interest 
is directly proportional to the amount of change which that event has 
caused in what we have before us. The task of historical science is 
just as little exhausted, however, with the fixing of former events 
as, for instance, the task of physics with the establishment of a single 
fact, as the temperature of a given place at a given time. Rather the 
individual facts must serve to bring out the general characteristics of 
the collective mind, and the much-discussed historical laws are laws 
of collective psychology. Just as physical and chemical laws are 
deduced in order with their help to predict the course of future phys- 
ical events (to be called forth either experimentally or technically), so 
should the historical laws contribute to the formation and control of 
social and political development. We see that the great statesmen of 
all time have eagerly studied history for this purpose, and from that 
we derive the assurance that there are historical laws in spite of the 
objections of numerous scholars. 

After this brief survey, if we look back over the road we have come, 
we observe the following general facts. In every case the development 
of a science consists in the formation of concepts by certain abstrac- 
tions from experience, and setting of these concepts in relation with 
each other so that a systematical control of certain sides of our 
experience is made possible. These relations, according to their gener- 
ality and reliability, are called rules or laws. A law is the more 
important the more it definitely expresses concerning the greatest 
possible number of things, and the more accurately, therefore, it en- 
ables us to predict the future. Every law rests upon an incomplete in- 
duction, and is therefore subject to modification by experience. From 
this there results a double process in the development of science. 

First, the actual conditions are investigated to find out whether, be- 
sides those already known, new rules or laws, that is, constant relations 
between individual peculiarities, cannot be discovered between them. 
This is the inductive process, and the induction is always an incom- 
plete one on account of the limitlessness of all possible experience. 

Immediately the relationship found inductively is applied to cases 
which have not yet been investigated. Especially such cases are 
investigated as result from a combination of several inductive laws. 
If these are perfectly certain, and the combination is also properly 
made, the result has claim to unconditional validity. This is the 
limit which all sciences are striving to reach. It has almost been 
reached in the simpler sciences: in mathematics and in certain parts 
of mechanics. This is called the deductive process. 


In the actual working of every science the two methods of investiga- 
tion are continually changing. The best means of finding new success- 
ful inductions is in the making of a deduction on a very insufficient 
basis, perhaps, and subsequently testing it in experience. Sometimes 
the elements of his deductions do not come into the investigator's 
consciousness; in such cases we speak of scientific instinct. On the 
other hand we have much evidence from great mathematicians that 
they were accustomed to find their general laws by the method of 
induction, by trying and considering single cases; and that the 
deductive derivation from other known laws is an independent 
operation which sometimes does not succeed until much later. Indeed 
there is to-day a number of mathematical propositions which have 
not yet reached the second stage and therefore have at present a 
purely inductive empirical character. The proportion of such laws in 
science increases very quickly with the rise in the scale (page 339). 

Another peculiarity which may be mentioned here is that in the 
scale all previous sciences have the character of applied sciences 
(page 341) with reference to those which fo